


Thedosian Stories and Beyond

by biowhathaveyoudone



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Multi, Prompt Fill, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 36,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4547142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biowhathaveyoudone/pseuds/biowhathaveyoudone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all the prompts I have filled over on Tumblr at the same username as well as unprompted drabbles. Various pairings and subjects occur. Explicit rating for relatively few chapters/prompts, will post warnings at beginning of whichever apply. Otherwise rating would stay around T as an average.</p><p>Pairing index as follows (not all drabbles have romantic pairings)</p><p>Lavellan/Solas: 1, 17, 20, 34, 57, 60, 66<br/>Inquisitor/Cullen: 2, 3, 12 (explicit), 15, 19, 25, 30, 37, 43<br/>Inquisitor/Varric: 4 (explicit), 7, 9, 10, 16, 22, 23, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29, 31, 33, 39, 42, 45 (explicit), 48, 52, 58<br/>Warden/Zevran: 8, 13, 21, 51, 55, 62, 63<br/>Inquisitor/Dorian: 11, 14<br/>Hawke/Anders: 18 (explicit)<br/>Inquisitor/Bull: 32, 46 (explicit), 59, 64, 65<br/>Warden/Alistair: 35, 61<br/>Hawke/Fenris: 36, 44 (tagged NSFW to be safe), 47<br/>Carver/Merill: 38<br/>Shepard/Vega: 40<br/>Shepard/Kaidan: 41<br/>Inquisitor/Blackwall: 49, 54 (explicit)<br/>Dagna/Sera: 56</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prompt: Solas, Offer Me

Her heart still ached. She could hear his words so clearly still in her mind.  _It won’t happen again._ And yet, she couldn’t let it stay as it was. The simple gift lay heavy in her pocket. She had meant to give it to him the night in the glen. Instead… She slid a hand into her pocket, curled it around the gift, and, squeezing it tightly, strode towards Solas’ study. He was standing on the opposite side of his desk as she opened the door, shuffling through papers. She felt a bolt of pain lance through her heart once more as his eyes latched onto her and he straightened.

“Inquisitor,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. 

“I… have something to say,” she said as she approached. He stiffened, his eyes clouding, but nodded all the same. She stood silent a moment, her hand tightening almost painfully in her pocket. Looking at him now, she knew it wouldn’t change anything. But she couldn’t walk away. So she drew her hand from her pocket. She looked at the small amulet she had so painstakingly crafted, the small circle knot painted in a prism of colors between the blue of lyrium, the green of her mark, and a dark green of the forest. She brushed it gently with her thumb before offering it to him.

“What…” he started, confused before he had fully taken in the token. His breath caught in his throat for a long moment before the whisperof it escaped his lips. There was sorrow on his face.

“You made this,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t have the chance to give it to you as I planned,” she said stiffly if only to keep any wavers out of her voice.

“Vhenan…” he breathed. She flinched violently but before her eyes had screwed shut, the pain in them shone bright as the sun.

“Forgive me,” he said, shame and guilt in his voice. “Perhaps… you should keep it.” Her eyes opened and her hand offering the amulet never wavered.

“This is not my choice anymore Solas,” she said, her voice soft but strong. “You had your say. And you know my response. This is my say. This is not a promise. It is not a trick. It will not give me a false hope. You made your decision and though I do not understand, I… acknowledge it. I look forward to the end of all this and answers but until then, this is what I say. How you respond is on you.” All he could do was stare at her for the longest time. For every reason he cared for her, it made it hurt all the more. She shouldn’t have the understanding to be here. The strength to push past hurt or anger or anything she may be feeling to give him one last chance to voice how he felt. He longed to hold her in his arms again. To hold onto her no matter what came. To have her at his side. But he had failed to even tell her the truth and the pain of that, the shame of it still burned inside him. He should not take that breathtaking form of her love. Just as he should not have continued this from the beginning. But just as he was unable to stop before, he was unable to turn this token away now. Silently, he took the amulet from her hand and fastened it around his neck. It lay just below the base of his throat. He met her eyes. For a long moment, the room only held pain, sorrow, and heartbreak.

“I…” he tried to say before breaking the gaze and looking away. Even now he couldn’t do it. “I will cherish it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. There was a pause before she turned and quietly left the room. He let her go in silence, the weight of her love around his neck.


	2. Unprompted: Tileah Lavellan in the snow

She stumbled forward, her teeth chattering furiously. Shehad long ago lost the feeling in her extremities. It made trying to walk in the snow even worse. So many times she had fallen, white hot agonizing pain shooting through her torso and her head, only to force herself back up again. The snow had frozen onto her clothes, the body heat that had once melted it dwindling. Even numb, she could still feel the magic of the mark flying up and down her arm, she could still feel the ache of what Corypheus had tried to do to it, to her. She almost fell over the former fire before she saw it. But what caught her eye was the faint glow under the grey ashes.

“E-embers… Recent?” she wondered aloud to the wind and the snow. Her eyes drooped but she forced them back open. To fall asleep was to die. And yet she wondered if that was all that was waiting anyway. Really she was surprised she was alive at all. It had been dumb luck she had fallen into one of the tunnels that surrounded Haven. But now, here she was. Trying to make her way through a blizzard in Creators-know-where in the mountains, the cold slowly sapping her strength, even as it dulled what had been blinding pain in her ribs and head from hitting the trebuchet so hard. When she turned her head, she could feel her hair pull, crusted over with blood. Creators, how strong was Corypheus? He had thrown her like a rag doll, brought her to her knees with a gesture. But that only meant she had to survive. She had to keep going. She had to…

But even as her mind refocused, her body quit. She tripped over her own feet and fell face first into the snow, unable to react in time to catch herself. An agonized cry flew from her lips, her legs trying to curl towards her chest. It hurt. Creators, did it hurt. Every breath of the frigid wind tore at her throat and exploded in stars of pain as her battered ribs expanded and contracted. Her face screwed up in pain and determination, she planted a hand against the snow, trying to lift herself, to get her knees under her even as her other arm curled protectively around her torso. But as she tried to push herself up, her arm gave out and she landed back in the snow, another cry pulling from her even though her arm cushioned her ribs some. To stop moving was to die. To fall asleep was to die. She had to get up. She  _had_  to. She reached forward. Maybe she could crawl. Crawl until she found a way to get back on her feet. Another hand gripped hers. The next moment, it had sunk in that she had heard someone yell.

“Maker’s breath,” breathed a voice, now even closer to her. A face appeared in her mind before she could form the name.

“Cullen…” she whispered. He hadn’t heard her. He had turned and was yelling something towards someone else about healers and blankets and fire. Fire. She almost whimpered at the thought of warmth. The next moment, she had been rolled over and hands were on her shoulders, helping her sit up. She gasped as her ribs flared with pain again, arms curling around herself. As she looked over, she realized he was on his knees beside her and had been calling her name.

“C-c-cullen,” she managed, a violent round of shivering tearing through her.

“By the Maker,” he swore even as he shifted to put his leg behind her back, holding her up as he tore off his cloak. Why hadn’t they brought blankets with them? Of course she’d be freezing. It was good she was as small as she was or his cloak would do little. He wrapped it around her and noticed her eyes were closed.

“Herald. Tileah!” He took her by the shoulders, about ready to shake when her eyelids lifted, though not far.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Where are you hurt? We need to get you back to camp.”

“Ribs. Head.  _Cold_.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Her teeth chattered louder than her words. “Tired.”

“Maker’s breath,” he cursed again.

His cloak smelled like him. Not that she knew what he smelled like, but it wasn’t a surprise to smell armor polish, something earthy that reminded her of the forest and her clan, a hint of sweat, even the tang of blood. His or someone else’s? And didn’t it seem like something was missing? She barely felt it when he lifted her into his arms and almost ran for camp. Her head nestled against a part of his arm where cloth covered his armor, the movement and his smell lulled her into the blackness of exhaustion. Right before she knew nothing, she wondered if she was imagining Cullen calling her name. After all, she had never heard him sound so frightened.


	3. Prompt: Cullen, Love Me

Cullen sat on his bed, skimming a report in one hand as his other ran through the Inquisitor’s hair. They both had been swamped with paperwork and reports and since they had little time together as it was, decided to at least work together. His desk didn’t have enough room for both of them, and that was before they addressed the fact he only had a single chair, so they had climbed the ladder up to his quarters as they were, and spread out on his bed. She had fallen asleep on his lap, the last report she had been reading spread over her chest. Every time his eyes had moved from the report to her, a smile tugged at his lips. So rarely now was she relaxed. So he hadn’t woken her, instead choosing to rifle through and deal with reports to her than he could handle, always running that soothing hand through her hair.


	4. Prompt: Varric, Shag Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit chapter. NSFW

He should know better. The thought kept repeating in his mind. But every time his fingers tightened in her hair to stop her, all he could do was encourage her as her head bobbed up and down on his cock. Andraste’s ass, how did he get here?! A rhetorical question of course, he knew very well how he had gotten here. One too many on both of their parts at their weekly Wicked Grace game and he had been too weak to resist those dancing eyes and beckoning lips any longer. And here he was, sitting on the edge of the Inquisitor’s bed as she knelt between his legs, one hand down her own pants, the other cupping his balls expertly as she sucked and bobbed on his increasingly harder cock. She hummed deep in her throat and he groaned as his cock twitched. She knew, damn her, just when to pause, where to caress, when to flash her glinting eyes to his to drive him mad. But she had been driving him mad for weeks. For weeks she had teased, taunted, silently offered. For weeks the questions, the doubts in his mind grew louder. And as she drove him closer and closer to completion, louder and louder his mind grew. Suddenly, she sank all the way down his shaft, lips pressing against his very base, and swallowed. The feeling of her throat moving against the head of his cock sent him flying over the edge, calling out her name. The doubts still rang in his head even as he panted in the aftermath. But as she rose, a smirk on her face, swallowing deliberately once more, he found he couldn’t care a single lick.


	5. Prompt: Nurse Me, Dorian

“Stop being such a baby." 

Dorian glared at Deanna even as the hint of a pout appeared on his lips. She rolled her eyes at him as she peeled back the torn edges of his armor.

"Just heal it and be done with it,” he snapped.

“Dorian, you’re a necromancer. I think you’re profoundly unequipped to tell me what healing dictates." 

"Says the woman who pulls a sword from the Fade to fight,” muttered Dorian. Faintly, he was almost wincing at the utter travesty that was his comebacks, but the sword had cut deep into muscle and focusing past the pain wasn’t coming very easily. She raised an eyebrow, recognizing his lack of wit as much as he did.

“Are you quite done ogling?” he demanded. She laughed now.

“Are you 12? Just hold still.”

“Perhaps if your shield hadn’t failed, I wouldn’t have to resort to such crude tactics.” Now he did wince as he realized far too late that apparently his tact had gone out the window as well. Her fingers had stilled entirely by his wound and her face was shadowed. The next moment, her magic flowed into him and a short time later, the wound had vanished.

“I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing her arm as she went to move away. “That was unworthy of me. And you.” She sighed, meeting his contrite eyes.

“I’m just glad you’re okay Dorian. Don’t scare me like that again.” He gave a mocking half-bow as he released her arm.

“I live to serve my lady,” he replied, his trademark smirk quirking his mouth. She snorted and rolled her eyes. He smiled, the damage undone on both counts.


	6. Prompt: Unbind Me, Cole

Cole wrung his hands as his breath came in quick short bursts. Her pain was so bright, raw and bleeding. She was so small. How could she hold so much pain? So large, so far-reaching. What could he say that wouldn’t make it worse? Remind her of something else? She had given him everything. His place to stay and help. Her unwavering faith in him. The chance to become more human. Of everyone he had ever helped, he wanted to help her more. But how.  _How??_

“Cole.” Her voice soft, caring. Even now she put others first.

“I want to help,” he blurted out as he looked to her. Her pain pulsed and he wrung his hands even harder. 

“Cole,” she repeated, stepping forward to put a hand against his cheek. “You don’t have to.”

“I  _want_  to,” he said urgently.

"You don’t have to,” she repeated. “Don’t beat yourself up because you can’t. Don’t feel like you have to.” She was releasing him from any sense of obligation as the spirit he had started as, still partially was. And though the anxiety lifted slightly, it didn’t change the fact she was his friend.

“I want to,” he repeated, his voice softer as he met her gaze. Her hand trembled on his cheek. He didn’t know why, but followed the urge to hug her and as she began to cry against his chest, he realized he didn’t need to speak to help.


	7. Prompt: Value Me, Varric/f!Cadash

“Dammit, what do you want me to say?!” Varric exploded. She paused, cocking a hip in the way she knew drove him crazy. 

“Just tell me the truth for once Varric,” she sighed. She looked tired. “I don’t want the pretty words, the witty dodges. I can’t anymore. Tell me how you feel or this is over. I honestly don’t even know if you can.” He almost growled, running a hand through his hair as he stared back at her. Didn’t she know what she was asking? How could he turn off everything in his brain, the voices, the doubts alongside the care, the… She sighed again, a sad noise that struck him in the chest.

“Just forget it…” she said quietly as she turned to leave.

“I like that I have to look down to meet your eyes instead of up,” he almost shouted at her. They both froze. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even thought about it. But it seemed his mouth had made the decision that he couldn’t let her go. And as she stared, shocked and confused at him, he stopped thinking.

“I like how I don’t have to explain things about the Merchant’s Guild. I can’t stand it when you stand there with your hip cocked because I know you do it on purpose. It terrifies me when you run headlong into battle, not a fear in your head. You can give me a run for my money at Wicked Grace. You know where my arrows are going before I do. You drive me crazy and still I can’t let you walk out that door because I love you!” The words rang in the room and even as thought reasserted itself in his head, he wouldn’t take it back if he could. The dam had broken and all that could be done was follow the waters where they took him. He was striding towards her. Stopping right in front of her, his eyes softened as they met hers, still wide with shock.

“I love you-” Her name was muffled as her lips crashed against his. Fire raged as their lips and tongues battled.

“You blighted dwarf!” she snapped at him, punching him in the shoulder even as a grin as bright as the sun sat on her face. “You couldn’t have told me that sooner?” All he could do was grin at her as she pushed him back towards the bed.


	8. Prompt: Breathe

Zevran cursed fluidly in Antivan as he almost tore his pack of poisons and ingredients from around his waist.

“Adder’s Kiss. They couldn’t have used Crow poison. No, they had to use what I don’t have an antidote ready for.” He dissolved into Antivan again. Arvana would have laughed if the fire in her arm wasn’t demanding her attention. Foolish. A misstep in battle combined with aging armor and here she was, lying on the ground useless as poison ran through her veins. Her arm burned with it and already it was sneaking its way into her chest. Foolish…

“Breathe. Cariño, breathe!” snapped Zevran. She gasped, suddenly realizing she had been holding her breath against the pain. Her head spun at the sudden oxygen and the burning under her skin. Zev was talking to her but it took a moment until the words focused.

“…slow it until I can finish the antidote. This is going to hurt cariño.”

“It already hurts Zev.” He laughed, a panicked noise. She tried to focus on him. Was he pale? But before she could focus any closer, something was pressed into the gash on her arm and white hot pain erupted behind her eyes. She didn’t even know she had screamed. How long she stayed unaware behind the haze of pain, she didn’t know. But when she did emerge, it was his voice that pulled her out.

“Vana! Arvana, you need to breathe!” Automatically, reacting to his command, she sucked in air and the pain receded some more. He was murmuring encouraging things, half in Common, half in Antivan. 

“Almost done my Vana. Almost done. There we go.” A moment later, something else was pressed into her wound and it seemed as if a flood of water was moving through her body, extinguishing the fire that raged. She sighed, the tension leaving her body.

“Vana?” he asked, his hand going to her cheek. She smiled.

“I’m okay. Thank you Zev.” He smiled back, softer than she had expected. But he was still her Zev and the teasing and taunting began even as he carried her back to camp on his back, a smile never really leaving his face.


	9. Prompt: Stay Awake, Varric/f!Cadash

Varric wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. The Red Templar Shadow had gone to stealth and though their hands were full with the rest of the group, both she and he as the rogues of the group had kept their eyes peeled. The only warning he had was a small gasp and she was gone. By the time he had turned to see where she went, the wicked point of red lyrium that was the Shadow’s arm and weapon had punched through her armor and sunk deep into her stomach. She seemed as surprised as they were even as she slumped to the ground. Dorian, who was standing less than a foot away and who the attack must have been meant for, angrily strode forward, forcing the Shadow back from where she lay with his fire magic. Not a scrap of flesh remained by the time he was finished. Varric had to be told that part later. He was at her side almost instantly.

“Stay awake. Stay awake dammit,” he cursed at her, her eyelids drooping even as he had arrived.

“How eloquent of you, Master Storyteller,” she managed, grimacing. He didn’t respond, instead holding a health potion to her lips. She did her best to drink, but began to cough, blood accompanying the drops of health potion. Blood pumped from the hole in her stomach but began to slow, even the little amount of health potion she had managed trying to help. 

“Camp’s not far,” said Dorian and he seemed slightly pale. 

“I can take her,” said Blackwall, his first words spoken, more serious than usual. 

“Just a little bit more,” said Varric as he held the potion to her lips, terrified she’d bleed out before they got her to camp. A little bit was all the more she managed and Blackwall stepped forward as Varric shifted to the side.

“You stay awake. You hear me?” he demanded as Blackwall easily scooped her into his arms.

“I heard you the first time, love,” she replied, her voice a whisper but it sent his heart jittering. Blackwall took off, Dorian right behind him after sending Varric a sympathetic look. Varric collected her daggers and followed, lost in his own thoughts and worries. He refused to believe she wouldn’t recover. She was the Inquisitor, she had survived worse. But it wasn’t logic that drove his belief in her. That single word reverberated throughout him and he’d be damned if she could get away with saying that without giving him a chance to return it.


	10. Prompt: Please don't leave, Varric to f!Cadash

“Please, don’t leave.” It wasn’t the words that stopped her, it was the way he said them. Quiet, barely even spoken, a tremendous weight behind them. So she turned back to him. It hurt, it still hurt, but she had spent the night before on tears because of him. She refused to spend anymore.

“I have to. You don’t even know what you want, Varric.”

“I don’t want you to walk out that door,” he said, his voice stronger as he took a step forward. She sighed softly, a ghost of a smile on her face.

“That’s easy to know. And not what I’m talking about. You didn’t tell me about her Varric.” His head dropped.

“I know…” he said softly.

“You don’t know what you want,” she repeated after a pause. “And I’m not waiting around for you to decide. I can’t. I won’t.” A storm in her eyes, she turned back around.

“I loved her… once.” His voiced floated across the room to her as she continued walking. “Maybe I still do. Maybe I always will. Maybe I’m stuck on what used to be. I never know with her. I know with you.” Her steps faltered, but she refused to turn around.

“I’ve always known. But she was right. I wallow in my mistakes, I obsess over what was, what could have been. I won’t let you be another mistake.” Now she did stop, clenching her fists.

“Don’t,” she ordered, her voice shaking. “Don’t you say this and not mean it.”

“I love you.” She shuddered at the weight of the words, but couldn’t bring herself to not believe him, couldn’t keep walking out that door. She stood there, her shoulders quaking, until he closed the distance between them the final time, and took his place at her side, where he had always been meant to be.


	11. Prompt: I'm not letting you walk, I'm going to carry you.

“Not broken, but badly sprained,” observed Dorian. His eyes flicked up to the Inquisitor. “You got lucky.” 

“Yes, yes, I did something foolish,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Just wrap it up and let’s get back to camp.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Dorian. “I said badly sprained if you were paying attention. I’m not letting you walk. I’m going to carry you.” The Inquisitor blinked.

“You?”

“Absolutely,” replied Dorian, slightly offended, if only for show. “Cassandra’s needed more to protect the party and Varric’s too short.”

“At least make some kind of joke about it,” sighed Varric as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly, not missing the beginnings of a blush on the Inquisitor’s face.

“Oh very well,” he sighed.

“Excellent,” approved Dorian as he helped the Inquisitor onto his feet. “You’ll be back running into bears in no time.”

“I did not run into a bear,” retorted the Inquisitor.

“True,” put in Varric. “You kind of landed on it.” Cassandra snorted, half-disgusted, half-amused.The piggyback ride to camp was shorter than both Dorian and the Inquisitor wished to admit, much to the amusement of Varric.


	12. Unprompted: Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit chapter. NSFW

Impatiently, Tileah glanced towards the steps to the main hall of Skyhold. Though technically a day off for her, she had spent most of the day either in the War Room, or meeting with both members of her inner circle and other people who required her attention. It had been days since she and Cullen had any significant time to themselves and if the indiscrete glances and lingering touches were any indication, he was feeling it as much as she was. A whispered invitation to her quarters and quick nod had sealed their plans for tonight, but the sun had set hours ago and still he didn’t appear at the top of those steps. Her mind had been busy, slowly losing interest in the never-ending reports that piled on her desk and instead picturing what would come. She bit her lip, glancing up again, and almost groaned when the top of the stairs remained steadfastedly empty.

The sound of a door being shut had her ears pricking and soon the sound of a person climbing the steps to her quarters could be heard. A smile spread across her face as she rose quickly. A moment later, he crested the top of the stairs. He had already removed his armor, wearing only a white shirt, sleeves pushed up to the elbows, the laces at the neck untied, leaving the shirt to gape carelessly, revealing the top of his chest and the beginning of his chest hair. Heat pooled welcomingly in her belly.

“My apologies Inquisitor, I…” He trailed off, his hand dropping from the back of his head as he caught sight of her and the look she was giving him. She took a few steps forward, hand trailing along the desk, knocking a stack of reports to the floor. His eyes darkened in response. For a humming second, nothing happened.  Then they moved, crashed into each other, groping, gasping. Somewhere along the way, the sound of tearing fabric could be heard, but neither cared as his white shirt fluttered to the ground behind them as he backed her towards her desk.

But just as they got close, she flipped their positions. She pushed against his shoulder and with the back of his legs flush against the side of the desk, his torso tilted backwards, his hands moving from her waist to brace himself. She smiled, but it wasn’t a pretty thing. It was hungry. Slowly, oh so slowly, her fingers undid the buttons of her shirt. Little by little her creamy skin appeared, but she was careful to keep the edges of the fabric close so he could see only a little stripe of the skin beneath. As she finished, her eyes moved to his, red beginning to darken her cheeks. Not breaking eye contact, she, just as torturously slowly began peeling off one side of the shirt. His eyes flew away from hers, unable to resist the pull of seeing inch by inch of the skin he was beginning to know so well revealed. Before she had even moved to the other side of the shirt, his cock was pressing urgently against his leather breeches. Maker, what she did to him… Her eyes never left his face even as she let the shirt slither down the rest of her body to pool at her feet. Fire raced across her skin seeing the power she had over such a strong man. She leaned forward and pushed both hands against his shoulders. Getting the message, he scrambled back along the desk. In the time it had taken him to do that, she had removed and tossed away her small clothes. Placing a knee in the gap between his legs, she lifted herself up and for a moment, allowed herself to drink in the man underneath her. The scars that marked him as a warrior, the muscles that had been sculpted over years of arduous training, the tight light-blonde curls of chest hair already beginning to darken with sweat. Hers.

He couldn’t breathe quite right with the way she was looking at him. The sight of her rearing over him surely didn’t help him very much. Maker she was gorgeous. His hands curled around the edges of the desk. He recognized she was in charge and if he didn’t ground himself, he wasn’t going to be able to keep himself from touching her too much longer. His movement seemed to break the spell and in an instant, her mouth was on his body. Teeth scraping, tongue tracing, lips sucking, until he thought he’d go mad. He could feel his muscles quiver helplessly beneath her and his hips thrust forward despite himself. She simply put a hand against them and continued her torture. His head flew back against the desk. Oaths that sounded like prayers tore from his lips which turned into her name. Just when he thought he couldn’t take another second, it stopped.

His breathing ragged, he lifted his head. A wicked gleam flashed in her eyes before her head bowed. She paused by the incredibly obvious bulge in his pants. A smirk was the only warning he had before she took ahold of the laces with her teeth. He groaned, his hands twitching against the desk. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she nimbly undid the tie and impatiently pulled his breeches off. Finally freed, it was obvious what she had done to him. Her smirk widened as she took in how painfully hard he was. She trailed a finger up the underside of his cock, her fingernail scraping ever so lightly behind. He cursed harshly as his hips bucked and his head fell back to the desk again. This woman was trying to kill him.

She wanted to see how far she could tease him, but she hadn’t expected how much it would affect her. The heat between her legs begged to be sated and she gave into it, moving to plant a leg on either side of his torso. She hovered over his cock though. One last thing. One last need.

He groaned at the sight of her over him, her breasts swaying slightly. He tried to bury himself in her but she simply lifted herself away. An oath burst from his lips.

“Tileah,” he breathed, a hint of a whimper in his voice. Her eyes were on him, greedy, wanting. She moved away again at his second attempt. The little sense of thought gone from the want, the need, his hands left the sides of the desk, but she pinned his arms down at the elbow. He groaned, his hips bucking.

“Please!” he begged. “Please Tileah!” Finally having heard what she wanted, in a single swift move, she sheathed him inside of her. She cried out, cresting her first peak but took only a moment before she locked eyes on his and rode. The air filled with their grunts, cries, and curses, neither willing nor able to stifle them. Her hands skidded on his slick skin, scrabbling for purchase as she lost herself in him, in the pleasure, in the feeling of riding him. His hands clamped down on her waist, keeping the unrelenting pace she had started, bruising fingers digging into her skin. She threw her head back and even as he grunted, his thrusts becoming quicker and more irregular, he knew he would never forget such a sight as long as he lived. She cried out, her fingernails biting into his chest. Never before had she clamped down around him so tight. He grasped for his control, panting as he held on just a moment longer. Even lost in her own climax, her eyes found his. The next moment, her hips began meeting his again even though it drew a cry from her lips.

“Go over,” she panted, demanding him to do so. “Go over for me.” Helpless to do anything but obey, a moment later he buried himself deep inside her as he hoarsely called her name. His name flew from her not a second later before she collapsed against his chest.

She lay there the longest time, her breathing sending the curls of his chest hair swaying back and forth. His arms were curled around her, thumbs brushing circles around and around on her skin.

“If we stay here much longer, we’ll fall asleep,” he told her. She could hear the smile in his voice even as his chest rumbled with the words underneath her. She almost laughed. He sat up, shifting her into his lap. They grinned goofily at each other for a moment.

“That was…” he started and her grin widened.

“Yeah,” she agreed. They both choked down laughter before glancing over to the bed.

“Think we can make it?” she asked, the muscles in her legs still loose and slightly numb.

“Together?” he suggested. A moment later, they both stood on the floor, swaying as they grasped each other for support. Snorts and giggles escaped both of them as they staggered, as if drunk, to the bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, still giggling slightly in the high after fantastic sex, they curled into each other, her head pillowed on his chest, his arms draped around her. They were asleep in minutes, smiles on both their faces.


	13. Unprompted

She was quiet. It happened now and then. She took her place around the campfire and instead of speaking with one of her companions, got lost in her own thoughts as she stared into the glowing wood and embers. It was in these moments her companions remembered how much of a burden she carried, how much had happened so quickly. They let her be, allowing her the silence she seemed to want. 

So when Zevran approached her one night, it wasn’t just the Warden who stiffened, but the rest of her companions as well. But the words that came so easily and tumbled so freely from the assassin’s lips they all expected never came. In silence, he sat by her side and curled an arm around her waist. Bit by bit, she relaxed and once it was clear he had no intention of speaking comforting words, distracting stories, mindful questions,  _anything,_  she leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder. A smile tugged at his lips as he laid his cheek against the top of her head. There they sat, both staring into the fire, so simple and yet so intimate. One by one, eyes turned away as their companions began to feel intrusive. Realizations of different magnitudes flickered across the camp. The final clue that Zevran no longer had any interest in assassinating them. How much more his and the Warden’s relationship seemed to have gone. And because of it, he had seen the one thing they had all missed. Silence she wanted, yes. A break from war and Blight and armies. But never had she wanted to be alone. 

For the first time on one of these quiet nights, as she curled her fingers into Zevran’s, a smile began to form. Now she didn’t have to be.


	14. Prompt: Want to play a game?, Dorian

“Want to play a game?” 

Dorian’s mustache twitched as the Inquisitor whispered into his ear.

“That would depend on the game, now wouldn’t it Amatus?” he teased, glancing back.

“You seemed to enjoy your game of chess with the Commander. Though perhaps you wouldn’t want to lose again.” 

“So easily you attack me. It would be a great shame should you lose.” Dorian’s eyes glinted as he turned to face the Inquisitor.

“I beat Cullen. Cullen beat you,” he shrugged with a smart grin. “Perhaps we should choose something else.” Dorian’s eyes narrowed.

“If you insist on insulting me, I want the stakes raised. Coin? A favor?”

“Loser does whatever the winner wants,” replied the Inquisitor, words mild, but his voice was husky and everything else in his eyes. Dorian’s eyes lit in response.

“Deal.”


	15. Prompt: You'll never feel alone with me by your side, Cullen

The nightmare had shaken them both. Unable to force himself awake, he flailed and fought and cursed the demons that plagued him. Unable to wake him, she was forced off the bed lest she get caught by one of his fists and leave him another nightmare once he awoke. The room had been still for a long time. He curled into himself, hands fisted in his hair, head on his knees. She stood, sorrow on her face. When she crawled back onto the bed and reached for him, he flinched away.

“Leave me alone.” His voice cracked.

“No.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, but he shuddered at it.

“I could’ve hurt you. I…” He trailed off, looking up, horrified. “I didn’t…”

“No. No,” she repeated firmly, taking his face in her hands. He met her gaze for a moment before his eyes flicked away.

“Not this time…”

“Cullen…” He grasped her wrists gently.

“It would be better if…”

“You’re not alone anymore!” It burst from her as if she had been meaning to say it for ages. “You know how to manage them on your own but you’re not anymore. I can help. Please let me help. Even if I can’t wake you, I’m still with you, still standing by you. Take me, take my heart with you and use it to fight. You’ll never feel alone with me by your side. Never again. Just don’t…” Her voice cracked. Even as he drew her to him, he felt the warmth of her words, her love chase away the cold that lingered after his nightmares. They clung to each other, neither wanting the other to let go.

“I love you,” he whispered into her neck.

“I love you too.”


	16. Prompt: Nightmare

Her breath caught. Red. He had glowed red. He had ignored her commands, her pleas, her begs and walked out that door glowing. When the door flew open again, the demons came through, but she saw his form tossed to the side. She saw him lying there. But despite the denial, the rage and despair that clawed at her throat, she knew the truth.

He wasn’t glowing anymore.

With a cry, she sat up. Her head twitched around, eyes darting everywhere. Tent. Not the hall in Redcliffe Castle. A burst of green light lit the inside of the tent. The Anchor, sparking, aching. But the light illuminated another figure and the next second she had a dagger in hand, moving forwards. The figure already had its hands up.

“Hey, hey. It’s me. It’s just me.” She took a shaking breath as she lowered the dagger.

“Varric…” The mark sparked again and he was illuminated, shadows thrown in a way she wasn’t used to. He was worried. Lines creased around his eyes, on his brow. But then the dream came surging back. The dagger fell to the ground as she threw her arms around his neck. She felt him flinch in surprise but didn’t care. Wouldn’t care. He was alive. That terrible future wasn’t real, would never be real.

“Yeah, okay,” he said after a moment, gentle yet slightly tentative hands wrapping around her. “Okay. You’re okay.”

“Hang dreams,” she muttered and he had to chuckle.

“I hear dwarven Grey Wardens also dream so you aren’t the only one.”

“Hooray for me.”

“You okay?” She suddenly realized she was still holding onto him and began to pull away.

“I… I just…” she said. Even in the darkness, she could see him gazing at her, still concerned. “Redcliffe.”

He was the one who stepped forward now and pulled her back into his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you worry about that.”


	17. Prompt: Pre-romance Lavellan gets advice

“You seem distracted Inquisitor,” said Dorian and before she even turned, she knew his eyes would be glittering with a borderline evil excitement. He had caught her staring down into Solas’ rotunda. She forced away the blush and began to deny. Then again, she had gotten nowhere on her own trying to figure out what she was feeling. Maybe advice would help.

“Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps you wish an elf would?” Now she did blush and smacked his shoulder as he leaned against the railing beside her, drawing his laugh.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem,” she muttered quietly as if their words could travel down so easily to the apostate’s ears over the shuffle of books and feet or cawing of ravens. His smile softened.

“I do believe that blush gave you away. Or are you opposed to him kissing you?” The blush flamed again as her eyes flicked to the figure bowed over his desk studying some book or paper intently.

“Not opposed…”

“Well then,” said Dorian cheerfully. “It’s quite simple. Flirt. Beguile. Make him want you. You have a rather fine knack for it if I do recall.”

“What just like that?” He laughed loudly at this.

“You are entirely adorable. I have seen you head into a sea of demons with less fear on your face. Just like that. Now go.” He gave her a gentle push towards the stairs. She huffed slightly but headed down the steps. She smiled briefly at Solas who glanced up as she walked past. The corners of his lips curled up slightly in response and she had to fight the blush as she headed down the short corridor to the main hall. Distracted, she very nearly slammed the door into Varric who was walking past. She winced.

“Sorry Varric.”

“Something on your mind Inquisitor?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the blush still on her cheeks. A grin tugged at his lips. “Did something happen?”

“Dorian caught me staring at Solas,” she muttered, the new blush coloring her cheeks even darker. “I don’t know what I… well he said I liked him and gave me advice.”

“He said?” asked Varric, an eyebrow raised. “Do you?”

“I…”

“No dancing around it,” said the dwarf firmly. “Yes or no. Do you like him?”

“…Yes,” she breathed and felt something settle inside her as she found the truth finally. He smiled.

“Good. Then what did Sparkler say?”

“He told me to flirt.”

“Oh, Andraste’s tits,” sighed Varric pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “If I have to watch someone else and their broody elf dance around something they both want again, I’m going to scream. Just tell him.” She blinked, blushing fiercely.

“What?”

“Tell him,” repeated Varric. “Or kiss him if you want, I don’t really care.” But he sighed and his eyes softened as he looked at her.

“Look, it’s harder and it’s gonna hurt more if it doesn’t work out this way, but you’ll know one way or the other. And besides with everything that’s happened so far and what’s on the horizon, I wouldn’t want to leave something unsaid.”

Images flashed in her mind. The battle at Haven. The struggle through the blizzard. The uncertainty she had carried for days fell away.

“Thank you Varric.” He grinned and inclined his head.

“Any time Inquisitor.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked back into Solas’ study. As the door closed behind her, Varric could hear her asking him to discuss more of himself and his studies. All he could do was grin.


	18. Prompt: I don't think you can handle me, Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit chapter. NSFW

Anders’ back hit the wall of Hawke’s bedroom. Already their breath came in pants.

“Touch me,” she breathed between the searing kisses, her hands delving under his robes to scrape fingernails across his chest. He shuddered even as he ran his hands down her back to squeeze her ass, grinding their cores together. They both groaned, but even as she rolled her hips against him, she shook her head.

“No.  _Touch_  me. As a mage. I know you can.”

“Hawke…” His grasp loosened as hesitation came onto his face. 

“Anders,” she responded with a playful smirk, rolling her hips again. He cursed hoarsely even as he flipped their positions, holding her arms against the wall so he could catch his breath.

“Touch me,” she repeated again, eyes dark with desire.

“It’s… not for everyone.”

“Let me decide that for myself.”

“I don’t think you can handle me. My magic. I don’t want you to…” Her eyes softened.

“I’m asking Anders. I want to know. I want to have all of you. And besides…” She reached forward and palmed his length through the robes. His breath caught and her eyes gleamed at the sound. “I know how to…  _handle_  you.”

Anders stepped forward, pressing himself against her once more and covering her mouth with his. Knowingly, his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her finery, down through her curls to her folds, already slick. Her hips met his hand as he rolled her clit between his fingers. When he rolled it again, he channeled a little of his magic into his fingers. She cried out, arching against him at the sudden cold against the sensitive nub.

“Maker yes,” she breathed, tugging against his robes in encouragement. “Please Anders, more.” He only had to press those fingers against her again, colder this time for her to come undone, crying out his name, hips pumping. As she panted for breath, she met his eyes and grinned.

“More.” Matching her grin, he eagerly complied.


	19. Prompt: It could be worse, Cullen

Cullen stirred, reaching for his bedmate. A full night without nightmares, something well and truly rare now, and he wanted to hold her close, relish the last few moments before he had to rise and return to his duties, to hold onto the time when they didn’t have to be Commander and Inquisitor. When he found nothing but dull warmth where she should have been, his eyes cracked open.

“Over here, love,” called her voice and he sat up in bed to find her at her desk, working. He blinked.

“You’re working? So early?”

“I am working. I suppose having the tables turned on you would be a little odd,” she replied with a grin, knowing his tendency to rise before her and work when they stayed in his quarters. “But it’s not so early.” 

He blinked again, scrubbing his face with both hands, his stubble scratching, as he tried to clear the last bit of sleep from his mind. 

“What do you mean?” With another grin, she stood and moved to one of the doors to her balcony, heavy drapes pulled in front. Parting them, she stepped back so the sun burst in, well into the sky. Cullen threw up an arm against the sudden light before his eyes widened. It was two, no, at least three hours later than he normally rose. 

“Orlesian drapes are very well made,” she commented, grinning at the stunned look on his face.

“Maker’s breath,” he hissed as he leapt from the bed, throwing on his clothing and armor. She stifled a laugh and he threw an annoyed look at her.

“What were you thinking? You should have woken me. My duties…”

“Can hold for a few hours when you are having a calm night,” she said firmly, humor vanishing from her eyes. He paused, meeting her eyes.

“As Commander…”

“As Inquisitor,” she interrupted again. “I can tell your soldiers I ordered you extra rest, and they were quite happy to hear it when I did tell them since you wouldn’t do it yourself, and deal with anything urgent if it came up, and it didn’t. Andraste’s ass Cullen, you know very well how rare it is for you to sleep like that. I didn’t want to wake you. I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, moving over to her and running his hands up and down her arms. “I know you meant well, but…” He sighed again. “I just…”

“Don’t know how to give yourself a break?” she asked, a small knowing grin on her face.

“Perhaps,” he replied with a smirk. Suddenly, it fell as a blush spread across his cheeks. “Maker’s breath, they’ll all know I was with you.” She laughed, bright and full.

“Cullen, if anyone doesn’t know about us by now, I’d assume they’d only just arrived to Skyhold. Or perhaps been living under a rock.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he returned to his previous task of dressing, tightening the ties to his breastplate he had only just thrown on before being distracted.

“It could be worse you know,” she commented, leaning a hip against her desk. “I could have giant holes in my ceiling that would make us both get up before we want to.”

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed again, heading down the steps to the main hall, her laughter ringing behind him, despite his words, smiling all the way.


	20. Prompt: I got you a present, Solas

“Solas!” Her excitement was obvious, the door had barely opened before she had called his name and by the time he had turned from his desk, she was in front of him, almost bouncing from whatever it was that had her so happy. Her smile was infectious, always had been, and he felt his lips curl upwards in response.

“What did you need vhenan?”

“I got you a present. Come on!” she urged, grabbing his hand and pulling her after him. He blinked, hesitating. He loved her, he knew that. He also knew how bad it was that he did, how bad it was he hadn’t ended it. A present would make what they had even more tangible. The guilt rose inside him.

“Come on!” she urged again, hand squeezing over his as she looked over her shoulder. “It won’t take long. Then you can get back to whatever you were doing. Promise.” She thought his hesitation was due to the distraction from his work. Allowing her to believe it, and unable to refuse the enthusiasm and light in her eyes, he smiled and followed. 

She led him out of the hall, out of Skyhold, either unknowing or uncaring of those that glanced at their entwined hands. Though they hadn’t endeavored to keep their relationship a secret, they also didn’t strive to make it known either, both preferring their privacy with so many strangers in and out of Skyhold on any single day. Solas couldn’t help but smile, despite the attention. Her exuberance and uncontained glee for her quest was beautiful to watch, the quick light of her smile as she glanced back, making sure he was still following even though her hand still held his, the occasional squeeze of his hand, the assurances of how close they were to whatever gift she had found for him. 

About 15 minutes into the mountains, she slowed. She turned, walking backwards briefly, the grace she always held striking him once again.

“I was out walking, I needed to clear my head. A few days back. I found this.” She tugged his hand and slipped into a break in the mountain he hadn’t seen, wouldn’t have noticed despite being wide enough for him to easily walk in. As his eyes adjusted, he stopped short, looking around in wonder. It was a cave, small, long rather than wide. A bedroll large enough for two lay to his left a little further in, furs and blankets were piled on a crate just beyond. Supplies and dried food were elevated in a sturdy net against the ceiling, above the reach of the wolves that prowled the area. A fire pit had been dug carefully and precisely, far enough in that the fire would warm the whole cave, but far enough out that the smoke wouldn’t linger. Finally, his eyes fell back to her and warmth, as bright as her eyes, spread through him.

“Vhenan…” he breathed.

“I know you enjoy your rotunda, but it gets a lot of traffic. Now, if you feel too crowded, or just want to be alone, you can come here. A nice quiet place to dream.”

“Vhenan,” he repeated, stepping forward to draw her close, burying his face into her hair. He found himself speechless, touched so entirely by the thoughtful gift. She had known him so well and in this moment, he didn’t regret a single thing.

“Ma serranas, ma vhenan.”

“You’re welcome, Solas,” she said softly. “So you like it?” He withdrew slightly, smiling. Looking at her tenderly, he reached for her, brushing soft, gentle fingers across her cheek.

“It’s perfect.”


	21. Unprompted

It had not been Zevran’s week. Early in the week, a courier had failed to notify delivery of a letter to his Warden. Though nothing to truly worry about since their letters had never held much in the way of true information, instead speaking of what they wished to do when reunited after so long, it was still enough to bring him down slightly. Her absence was beginning to grate. He was entirely too used to waking in an empty bed, entirely too used to sharpening his blades alone. To put it bluntly, he was no longer able to deny how much he missed her. His courier killed, letter lost, meant at least two more weeks without word from her unless she got the urge to write another letter. Looking back, it should have been a sign of things to come.

The following day a foolish mistake had cost him and the Crows a major payday. He had the mistake quickly rectified, of course. The Crows reputation would stay intact, but the money had been lost in the first failure. That same night, the first of the attempts on his life happened. They had not been the first. Assassinating the Guild Master and taking his place brought that. It was the territory. But none had tried in many months. Perhaps he should have been flattered two cells had allied to try and take him out. After two days of fighting, no sleep, and the paranoia that kept good Crows alive, he was in no mood to even attempt to entertain a brighter side. The situation had been dealt with. Heads had rolled and punishments doled out as appropriate and all that was left was to trudge back to his room, bitterly empty. 

Had Zevran been less tired, he would have felt foolish that he had so easily counted the days from the day he sent his letter to when Leha normally responded. Instead he only looked at the date, two days from now, with a bitter anger, more sad than anything. Unable and unwilling to keep her from his mind, instead of collapsing into his bed, he headed for his desk, reaching for scroll and ink. Holding the paper open with his elbow and resting his head against that hand, he began to write a new letter. The sound of the quill scratching against the parchment filled the room. He felt the sting of loneliness as he wrote, this letter more bittersweet than he should let out into the world where any of his enemies could get their hands on it, yet as in so many things involving his lovely Leha, he could not help himself. The sudden knock on his door startled him as he instinctively reached for his daggers. The scroll curled back up, smudging the ink.

“Váyase!” he snarled, trying to salvage the letter as he quickly threw drying sand against it. There was silence for a moment before the faint but ever so familiar sounds of a lockpick at work floated through the room. He stood so abruptly, his chair overbalanced, falling to the floor.

“Si valoras tu vida…” he snapped, whirling towards the door with a cold rage in his eyes. And then everything stopped. The door swung open and there she stood. Her hair had grown and instead of cutting it, she had braided it back, a partner of how he wore his hair. The curve of her lips, that small mouth he loved so much, was too wide to be a smirk, but her voice still teased.

“And yet our companions only think you a mediocre assassin with bad jokes. What would they say now?” His shock vanished. By the time he had taken two steps, she was moving too and they slammed into each other, arms clutching in a tight embrace. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, the smell of her, freshly turned earth, Ferelden leather, and the faint tang of blood, once again flooded his senses. He had let her go. Why had he ever insisted on coming to Antiva alone? What a bloody fool he was.

“Not even a kiss?” came her voice. She laughed as his mouth met hers, his hands curling to cup her cheeks.

“Mi bella amora…” he whispered before pressing an almost chaste kiss against her lips. “Lovely Leha…”

“Hey,” she said, brows furrowing slightly in concern as she brushed his cheek. “Zev, you okay?” Pressing his forehead against hers, he simply smiled.

“I am now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Váyase - go away
> 
> Si valoras tu vida - if you value your life…


	22. Prompt: Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you, Varric

Sylvi and Varric sat in a shadowy corner of Skyhold, feet dangling over the edge of the battlements, swaying ever so slightly as they passed an almost empty bottle back and forth. They had returned from Crestwood to meet Hawke’s Warden friend earlier that day and the meetings with the advisers and planning of the scouting of the Western Approach made a rather lousy rest of the day. So when Varric had pulled a bottle of house whiskey salvaged from The Hanged Man from wherever he had stashed it and offered a drink, she had gladly accepted. Though the drink could hardly be called whiskey, they went through it silently, minds turning through the events of the last fortnight.

“Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you…?” asked Varric suddenly, as he handed the bottle back to Sylvi. She snorted and drained the last of the liquor. 

“Can Ser Storyteller not handle his liquor and forgotten he’s talking to a brand?” Varric blinked, cursing himself through the haze of the alcohol, even as the same haze kept his own problems at the front of his mind.

“Casteless don’t mean shit compared to what you do. Corypheus…” She was laughing now, a hard laugh as she shoved the empty bottle back into his hands.

“What you do? You really must be drunk and I’ll give you the hangover to kick yourself out of it before I put a boot up your ass myself. What you do…” She shook her head, kicking at the stone of the wall they sat on with her heels.

“Mistakes that only seem like mistakes with hindsight. Must be nice,” she sighed after a pause. She stared out into the darkness, the drink only half-clouding her eyes even though she had as much as him. “Born casteless lower than dirt. Steal and worse to survive. Casteless Carta murderer. They’ve said it and you can’t stop it because it’s true. Selling every last bit to have something to eat and when that’s not enough selling more. At least you have something good enough as coins bounce onto the cooling sheets.” All he could do was stare as her admission curled inside him. 

“Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?” she repeated his words back. “No.” That jolted him.

“No?”

“I’d be better off without the world. But it doesn’t work like that and that’s how life goes. Can’t change it. Just gotta do what you have to so you can live with it.” She turned to look at him, eyes catching the glint of a torch, the storm of those grey eyes he had nicknamed her after piercing into him.

“Everything you do in life leads to who are at this very second. Right decisions, wrong decisions, whether you call them that or someone else does. Whatever they are, I don’t think I’d like any other version of you that you might wish for more than the one in front of me right now.” And curling a hand into his collar, she pulled him into a kiss. As quick as it came, she was gone, hopping up to her feet and winking as she strolled away. 

It took half an hour for Varric to find the sense to stand and make his way back to his bed, lighter than he had been in months.


	23. Prompt: Don't you listen to them, Varric

Sylvi had been quiet on the way back to Skyhold, even moreso after the discussion with Cullen on how many Inquisition soldiers Florianne and her harlequins had killed. Varric hadn’t pushed her, knowing both her temper and her reluctance to discuss these kind of thoughts surrounded by other people. But he worried. He had heard what the nobles whispered about her, seen how they looked at her. Even now, it infuriated. So when they finally reached Skyhold, and she retreated to her quarters, as he expected her to do, he followed. A few moments to pick the lock and he was in, closing and locking the door behind him. At the foot of the last flight of stairs to her quarters, her voice snapped out at him.

“Get out.” If she had been a mage, the air would have crackled with the ice contained in those two words. He cautiously moved onto the first step.

“I can’t do that Tempest.” 

“Out,” she repeated, but he only kept climbing the stairs.

“Sylvi.”

“I’m not asking.”

“Well I am.” He rose high enough to be able to see above the railing, see where she stood, glaring daggers into him, almost shaking with anger and something more.

“I don’t want you here.”

“Sylvi,” he said gently. 

“Don’t,” she snapped and her voice shook. His brows drew together even further in concern as he continued moving ever closer to her.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged softly. Her control shattered, grabbing an ink bottle off her desk and hurling it against the wall, the opposite direction from where he stood.

“What’s wrong?” she hissed. “You aren’t listening to me. You insist on barging in. I just want to be alone. Leave me alone.”

“You aren’t alone. Not anymore. And that’s not it.” He was closer now, still not within arm’s reach, but enough to see the storm of emotions in her eyes.

“Yes, it is,” she bit off, but she was trembling now, the last bits of her control fraying.

“Sylvi.”

“Fifteen soldiers are dead!” It burst from her as though painful, eyes screwing up tight, hands balling into fists.

 _Here it is_ , he thought.

“When Florianne attacked.” She shook, looking away from him. He took a step forward, still not touching her.

“Syl.”

“Because of me okay? Because of me…” Her shoulders slumped as the anger slipped away. But he had seen this before. Anger was easier for her. So when she lost it, saying the wrong thing would hurt and infuriate even more than before.

“Now why would you think that?” he asked gently, clamping down on the urge to soothe, caress. She snorted.

“I didn’t stop her before. Didn’t think I could stand there and say the right thing to get the court to believe what she was. They wouldn’t listen to me… Why would they?”

“Sylvi,” he interrupted sharply. Those bastards had gotten to her. Those horrid Orlesian assholes.

“You heard what they said…”

“Don’t you listen to them. Don’t you  _ever_  listen to them!” His own control had snapped now. He had taken her by the shoulders, almost shook her as he urgently looked into her eyes. “You are worth more than the lot of them together. Fuck what they think. They lie and conceal their dirt so they can look good. You took what life gave you and accepted it. You became a better person. Maybe you couldn’t have convinced them. Maybe more people would have died. Either way, you saved a lot of people that night.” Her lower lip trembled before she moved into him, pressing her face against his shoulder.

“Okay,” she whispered as his arms curled around her, warm and large. 

“Yeah?” he asked, brushing a kiss against her hair.

“Yeah,” she replied, curling her arms around his waist. “Just stay here a bit?” He chuckled slightly.

“I can do that.”


	24. Prompt: Feel better

Sylvi opened bleary eyes to stare at the stone ceiling above. Mind clouded, the first thing to come back to her was ache. Her entire body protested.

“There you are,” said a familiar voice and she turned her head to see Varric sitting by her bed. Skyhold. And the rest came flooding back. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“After hearing you whine about the snow the entire time we were in Emprise du Lion, why am I the one sick?”

He chuckled, a grin spreading across his face.

“Haven’t you ever heard of a good whine keeping the chill away?”

She groaned at him.

“A mulled wine. Andraste’s ass…” She broke off as a wave of coughing shook through her. As it faded, she felt his hand behind her back, raising her up slightly as he held a glass of water to her lips. The amusement in his eyes had been replaced by concern.

“Worrywart,” she accused with a small smile before sipping at the water, sighing as the cool water soothed her aching throat.

“Guilty,” he replied unashamedly. “Just feel better Syl okay?”

“Thanks Varric.”


	25. Prompt: I'm not cut out for this, Cullen

Her hands shook. She hadn’t even realized until the movement had caught her attention as she stood at her balcony, staring off into the mountains as she thought of all that had happened, of all that still needed to be done. Had she done the right thing forcing Celine, Briala, and Gaspard to cooperate? It wouldn’t last, surely it couldn’t. Corypheus was growing desperate and therefore more dangerous as she continued to thwart him. By the seat of her pants. Things had worked out thankfully, but she didn’t feel like she was the reason why. Dumb luck, choosing which of the locked doors to use the stone halla on that gave her what she needed to blackmail all of them. The only reason she and others lived to make the ball because of the Warden, left behind in the Fade. By the time she realized where her thoughts had led her, it was too late. 

She slowly raised her shaking hands, staring as her eyes grew wide, her breath began to quicken. She backed away from the balcony on muscles that felt like liquid until she hit the edge of her desk and slid down the side. Her stomach roiled. The shaking stole through the rest of her, the muscles in her stomach, even her teeth chattered with it. All she could do was stare at her shaking hands as her mind screamed and raged. Who was she to lead these people? What had she done to help? 

“…quisitor. Inquisitor! Love, look at me!!” A voice burst through the fog, the shock, and she turned startled eyes to see that familiar face, now worry-filled as he knelt by her side. Her eyes only widened further, tears borne of fear beginning to swim in them. Slowly, she shook her head. Not him. Not Cullen. What would he think of her? He, who faced nightmares and withdrawal with not a complaint. 

“What’s wrong?” he urged, reaching for her only to pause as she curled into herself. “What is it?”

She stared at him, barely even noticing how her teeth still chattered, how her breath shuddered.

“Love,” he whispered, tentatively reaching out to brush the tear she hadn’t felt fall off her cheek. “Please.”

“I’m not cut out for this…” she whispered, unable to bear the look on his face. She had caused that too. Confusion battle with worry as he shifted closer.

“What do you mean?” Laughter, high and panicked, burst from her.

“All of this. What good have I been? Stumbling around and just happening to have the right things happen? The peace in Orlais won’t last. A good Warden was left in the Fade for what? For me? I can’t… I can’t do this….”

Cullen simply reached out and gently pulled her against him, her back against his chest, and pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek.

“Corporal Vael in the Hinterlands sent me a report a few weeks back. He reported that the refugees were well-fed, in good health. An early snow storm had struck a few days before he sent the report but they had lost few. He spoke of backstores of ram and bear meat that had gone to stews, supplies from abandoned apostate caches. The elven healer was a Maker-send for the cold that tried to take fingers and toes. The number of people saved by the actions of the Inquisitor were innumerable he wrote. Caer Bronach reports the villagers of Crestwood had promised to never forget what the Inquisition did to help them, and they haven’t, defending the Inquisition to travelers, sending surpluses of crops or hunts to the keep. The soldiers of the Inquisition still talk among themselves of the story spread after the return of the soldiers taken by the Avvar in the Fallow Mire. The Inquisitor unlocking the door to rescue them, covered in blood and bravely limping as she helped them leave, each tale growing in the telling. The Inquisitor that stepped forward, no matter her reservations, and spoke words eloquent enough to have the Orlesian court believe Florianne the traitor she was and saved more bloodshed.” 

As he spoke, he had gently rubbed his hands up and down her forearms and as her shaking began to lessen, curled his fingers into hers, rubbing his thumbs against the back of her hand. 

“I… I’m… s…”

“Shhhh,” he comforted, brushing another kiss against her cheek. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by his support and love.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice almost cracking. They sat there as her mind quieted, the steady support of her Commander at her back, as he always had been.


	26. Prompt: I'm pregnant and it's yours, Varric

“What do you mean the healer said it’s normal?” demanded Varric, frowning at her. “You’ve been throwing up, foods you used to love are making you sick, and despite all of that you’re gaining weight. That’s not normal Syl.” Sylvi stared for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“You just spelled it all out you idiot,” she laughed as he stared at her like she had lost her mind. “I’m pregnant.”

Varric staggered as if he had been physically struck, his jaw dropping. “You’re…” he said breathlessly.

“And it’s yours,” she teased with a smirk.

“We’re having a kid,” he said, pure joy on his face. Her smirk softened into a smile as she took his hand and pressed it against her stomach.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”


	27. Prompt: No, you can't die on me now!, Varric

Varric was strangely aware of everything he was doing. His finger was trembling too close to Bianca’s trigger even though the last enemy had fallen. The air he was trying to suck in didn’t seem to want to go much past his collarbone because why else would his chest feel like someone was squeezing him far too tightly? And he stared, oh he stared, at what couldn’t be, what didn’t make sense. She didn’t fall. Inquisitor Cadash was strong despite everything, stared down enemies on the battlefield and those who would scoff at a Carta member alike. Why was she lying on the ground? Why wasn’t she moving? 

His breath hitched. And the spell broke. 

Bianca dropped to the ground, forgotten as he ran to her. 

“No, no,” he chanted defiant even as he got closer and the blood became clear. He tripped, scrambling the last few feet on hands and knees, too desperate to care how foolish he looked. A Greater Horror’s claws had torn through her armor, leaving three long, deep gashes across her chest and torso. Blood had already pooled around her, thick and dark. Kill blood. His hands were shaking, his mouth dry.

“No!” he shouted, finding his voice again. “NO! You can’t die on me now!” Memories flashed as he pulled her into his lap, cradling her head as it lolled to the side. The heat of her lips against his. The defiance and hurt in her eyes as he told her, much too late, about his crossbow’s namesake. The way her lips had curved so perfectly when she had forgiven him. The night spent on the furs in front of her fireplace.

“No,” he repeated as he brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, aching for her eyes to open again. “Please…”

A flash of light startled him and his head whirled to find Vivienne pouring magic into the limp Inquisitor. It was only then Varric realized there were tears in his eyes, tightening his chest even further.

“The Inquisitor carries poultices,” Vivienne said, both commanding and gentle. With a jolt, Varric moved. She always carried extra, just in case they ran out of both health and lyrium potions. 

“There you go, my dear,” she said approvingly, if a little strained, as he refocused and pressed the poultices against the gashes. “We won’t let her go so easily.”

“No,” he agreed as he looked back to Cadash’s face, still pale, eyes closed. She wasn’t going to die he told himself. She couldn’t.


	28. Prompt: Talking down

“Varric?” Cole was sitting on the opposite side of the table the dwarf worked at, swinging his legs back and forth. 

“Hmmm?” replied Varric as he finished off a letter to the Merchant’s Guild.

“What does brand mean?” Varric looked up sharply, almost spilling wax across the entirety of the folded paper. 

“Who said that?” 

“Unhidden. Black against her skin. A slap in the face. He’s angry no one told him she was a brand. But I don’t know what that means.”

“Bad,” he growled as he felt anger charge through his blood. Cole’s legs stopped swinging as he raised his head, wide eyes meeting Varric’s. 

“It hurts her? She’s too bright, I didn’t… The gates.” 

Varric strode off, a nasty gleam in his eye. They had no right, no right to look down on her. Just for her birth. 

_Fuck their castes and fuck them too._

There were soldiers starting to mill by the gates, the same unsavory look in many of their eyes. They parted for him easily, the sound of a voice echoing in the large room just beyond the gates. 

“…pretty words?! We are not equals and you would greet us as you did, you would speak to us as you did. It is a wonder your brand doesn’t burn against your skin to show such insolence, you filthy Carta wh…”

“My Lord Vollney,” said Varric sharply as he caught sight of the man speaking. Another dwarf stood at his side, quite content to act as if nothing was happening. He could see some anger underneath Sylvi’s careful mask, but not as much as there should have been which only enraged him further. 

“Messere Tethras,” replied Vollney, blinking. “I hadn’t known you were with the Inquisition.”

“Indeed. There seems quite a lot of things you don’t know.” Vollney flushed angrily. 

“You would presume…” 

“I wouldn’t dare presume to tell you anything, my apologies,” replied Varric, inclining his head, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Of course you know you speak to the leader of the Inquisition in the comfort of her own stronghold.” Vollney turned a shade darker red as he recognized all the attention of the nearby soldiers were fixed dead on him.

“And of course, I wouldn’t dare remind you of your own House’s beginnings with the scandal, the barest margin to name a Paragon.”

“You would…”

“I wouldn’t,” said Varric, widening his eyes in mock innocence. “Neither would your companion, Lord Gavorn is it? Still close to King Aeducan I hear. Has his wife heard from her sister yet? It would be a shame if we lost Paragon Brosca the way we lost Paragon Branka.” Gavon lowered his eyes in surrender and had the grace or wits to look ashamed. Vollney was a lovely shade of purple by now and Varric turned cold eyes back to him.

“My lord you mentioned the Carta? Did you ever get those allegations in the Provings sorted out? Such a shame to be accused of that. Having the Carta fix Proving matches.” Varric tutted as he shook his head. “And to place them against such a… fine lord as yourself.”

“You dare…”

“Never,” replied Varric with a grin. “A good gambler knows where to dare and whom with. My lords welcome to Skyhold. You’ll find our hospitality will match your own.” He mock bowed to the both of them. Soldiers around them shifted, set hands on their weapons. Vollney stood defiant a moment longer, before his shoulders sagged.

“You’ve had a long journey,” said Sylvi, stepping forward. “Let us have some refreshment before we begin our talks.”

“As you say Inquisitor,” replied Gavorn. Josephine had arrived suddenly, as cool and collected as ever.

“Our Lady Ambassador will see to you,” said Sylvi as Josephine led the two away. She stood watching them walk through the courtyard and climb the steps to the hall. Her shoulders began to shake. Varric stepped forward, alarmed but her laugh rang out and soon the gatehall shook with it from her and all the soldiers who had gathered.

“What got into you?” she asked, turning to him, tears of mirth leaking out the sides of bright eyes. “That was fantastic!”

“No one calls you that,” he said simply, brushing a thumb against the mark on her cheek. “Besides, Ruffles would find it preferable to punching a noble in the face.”

“Aww,” cooed Sylvi with a smirk. “The big strong man protecting his woman.” He matched her smirk.

“Now you’re having a go at me.”

“All’s fair,” she replied before her look turned serious and she pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.” He smiled, catching a glimpse of Cole grinning as well out of the corner of his eye, as he took her hand.

“Always, Syl.”


	29. Prompt: I don't care what they think, to me, you're perfect, Varric

“Do you realize that Skyhold is still buzzing about what you did this morning?” asked Sylvi as she climbed the stairs to her chambers, Varric following behind. “And each retelling is only getting more ridiculous. I heard one in which after you tore into them, which is being repeated more or less word for word, you then swept me off my feet, kissed me until my knees went weak, then carried me off like a conquering hero.” Varric laughed.

“That’s a good one. I haven’t given the soldiers here enough credit.” Sylvi rolled her eyes.

“They’ve been reading too many of your books.”

“Exactly,” he said with a grin, leaning against the wall and crossing one foot over the other. She threw a pillow at his head which only made him laugh again. But as he grabbed it off the floor where it had fallen and rose, ready to fire back, he caught sight of the look in her eyes.

“Syl,” he said softly, laughter forgotten. She blinked, catching herself.

“It’s nothing.”

“Syl,” he repeated, pushing off the wall to move towards her, throwing the pillow back onto the bed.

“He wasn’t wrong.”

“What?” he said, his jaw dropping. “Of course he was. He…”

“Not about the unworthy shit,” she said, interrupting him and turning away. “All that caste bullshit is… well, bullshit. Not about that. I  _am_  a member of the Carta no matter how much the Inquisition wants to bury it. And I was a…”

“You did what you had to. To stay alive.”

“Like there haven’t been hundreds of other whores forced into it the same way? It doesn’t change what I was,” she snapped coldly, the temper that she hadn’t allowed to surface that morning, coming back in force. “I have the casteless brand. I am a Carta murderer. I was a whore. How was he not wrong?” Varric’s own anger flashed. She would look at herself like that? 

“I don’t care what he thinks! I don’t care what they think! I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t even care what you think. To me, you’re perfect. You’re perfect Sylvi.” They stared at each other a long moment until he winced.

“I don’t mean I don’t care about what you think, I meant…” She shook her head, stepping forward to press her lips against his, cutting him off entirely. 

“I know what you meant,” she said softly after they pulled apart, resting her forehead against his. “I’ve been called many things Varric. I’ve never been called perfect.” He smiled gently, brushing his fingers against the brand on her cheek before kissing her again.

“I’ll make sure to say it more often then.”


	30. Prompt: High school popular kid/nerd au, Cullen

Tileah steeled herself outside the classroom door. She had never minded tutoring or helping other kids who had asked for help. It was something else entirely to be told she would be tutoring someone by her teacher, who had quite ignored her misgivings. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door. And immediately felt ice slick through her stomach. A baseball arced through the air over and over, from bare hand into glove. The curly hair gave him away. Cullen. He ran with the same group of popular kids that had tormented her just that morning. He turned and his eyes went wide. She whirled on her heel, ready to flee.

“Tileah, wait!” he called, as the chair and desk clattered in his haste to come after her. But she had already frozen, turning her head back towards him. 

“You know my name?” To her astonishment, he flushed.

“I… uh… I-I… the teacher. Told me.”

“This is a trick,” she said after a moment of silence, eyes darting around the room.

“No!” he said, taking a step forward before wincing as she flinched and backed away. “Please, I really do need help. Coach has been on my back to get my grades up.” She hesitated. He looked genuine and she knew that for kids involved in the sports program they had to keep a certain GPA to continue to play. At the very least she could hope the torments could drop back to teasings if she did help.

“Okay,” she said and a bright smile flashed onto his face. Her stomach fluttered in response. He was popular for a reason, besides playing baseball, he was extremely attractive. 

 _Stop it now Tileah_ , she chided herself, flustered slightly as she took a seat next to his desk and opened the textbook to the section on the nomadic Arlathani tribes. 

* * *

The time passed quickly. Cullen became a quick study once she had figured out that he needed the information laid out in a much more structural format than the textbook offered. He had also been a lot nicer and enjoyable to be around than she had thought.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a handwritten scribble in her book beside a picture of an Arlathani. She closed the book before he could read it.

“A lot of people look down on the Arlathani. They think they’re no more than savages.”

“Never know what you’ll find in these old textbooks,” he said jokingly. She stood abruptly.

“Maybe you really did need help and maybe your group of friends won’t be waiting outside the door, but don’t play dumb now!” she said angrily, too upset to take in how shocked he was. “That was written this morning.” She fled from the room, ignoring his calls after her, fighting the tears that were gathering in her eyes.

Cullen caught her the next morning.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Arlathani?” he asked, what looked like real concern in his eyes. She looked away.

“Don’t say you didn’t…”

“I didn’t,” he insisted. There was silence.

“I told my… friends,” his tone changed at the word, disgust dripping from it, “to leave you alone.” She looked back now, eyes wide in shock.

“You can tell me if anything else happens okay?” he urged.

“Just for helping you?” she asked. He looked even more upset at that.

“Because you don’t deserve it.” Her stomach fluttered again.

“Thank you,” she managed. Cullen glanced away as someone hailed him.

“Have a good day Tileah,” he said with a smile before moving off. Her eyes followed him. She shouldn’t read into it. She should stop this before anything else happened. But she had felt the warmth in her chest before. She knew what it meant. She had a crush on Cullen.

_Maker help me._


	31. Prompt: Pretending to hate each other au

“I do not have any comment on Sylvi Cadash beyond the information you already have,” Varric announced to the crowd of reporters and paparazzi. “She is an actress in the movie I’m directing. That’s it. No more questions.” 

He turned away from the flashing cameras and hurled questions, but one caught his attention.

“Do you have anything to say in response to her allegations of unprofessionalism and ego on your part on the set?” He glanced back, his eyes flashing angrily.

“You want to hear about unprofessionalism? Go talk to her.” With that, he walked into the building. Goddamn leaks. So maybe he and Syl had gotten into it on set in the first week of filming. That had been months ago. The film was releasing in the next week. The press had been relentless. Syl was a hot commodity, recently bursting onto the scene in some B film with her grey eyes, blonde hair, and red lips that perfectly fit the female lead in Swords and Shields. He knew he had to have her, practically casting her without an audition. She had not been what he expected. 

Sylvi glanced up as he entered his office and turned her phone around so he could see the screen.

“They’re having a field day with you finally responding.” The picture was of him as he had glared at the reporter who had ‘informed’ him of Sylvi’s latest accusations.

“Don’t you have enough credits on the movie? Or are you trying to get an actor one as well?” she teased, rising onto the heels she loved so much that put her a few inches taller than him, leaning over to press a kiss against his lips.

“I’m getting tired of this. And we still have a week to premiere!” he sighed after they broke apart. The argument on set had been entirely true. She had changed lines during a scene and when he had gone after her, she matched him word for word, eventually revealing a new angle to the character he hadn’t considered and an intellect he hadn’t suspected. It wasn’t long before they had slept together, staying together quietly even after the filming had finished. Both their agents had agreed as premiere loomed to leak the argument, boosting publicity. It threw a wrench into his mood to act like he hated her one minute and be with her in secret the next.

“You’re worrying too much,” she chided, poking him in the shoulder before returning to her seat and her phone.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked, following behind. 

“Of course it does,” she replied absent-mindedly. “The same way the attempted hacks and the comments on how I started do. But that’s how Hollywood works. Scandal sells.”

“Let it be someone else’s scandal,” he huffed. “I’m tired of thinking about what I’m going to say next while I’m with you.”

“If you’re thinking about that while you’re with me, I’m not doing my job right,” she said with grin. 

“Syl.” 

“What do you want me to say Varric?” she said, putting her phone aside and looking to him. “Honestly. What do you want me to say? Would you rather this be public and the scandal be around you, me, and her?” He winced.

“Then what?” she reiterated. 

“I just… hate saying this shit about you.” A smile tugged at her lips.

“So do I. Just a little longer okay? Then we’ll have a few days. We’ll disappear. Just you and me.”

“You and me,” he repeated, leaning over her to kiss her gently.

“Softie,” she said with a smirk.

“Only for you Syl. Only for you.”


	32. Prompt: celebrity/fan au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt that started the Off the Screen, Out of the Wood fic

Arlane shifted slightly. It had been a very long day. She had left the store to Dagna and showed far earlier than she had ever wanted to admit to the crowd barriers that lined where he was going to appear that night. For hours, she had been crammed amongst hundreds of strangers while jostling to keep her position right at the barriers. But the end was in sight. She was only a few feet away from  _The_  Iron Bull. Athlete turned actor, he was extremely popular with everyone from sports bar football fans to the teenagers currently testing the limits of her eardrums. She had been watching him since he had played professional football, in awe of how he moved across the field, brushing aside other players like they were flies. After he had retired, he had begun acting and somewhere along the way, became a respected actor, no longer the former football player. But what had always drawn her was his interviews, when he was himself, or as much of himself as he ever showed the public. Charming, handsome, but not afraid to say exactly what he thought. Maybe it was foolish to think that was the real him he was with people he knew, but she was drawn to him all the same.

Arlane brushed her pocket where the hewn dragon sat, once again assuring herself it was still there. Iron Bull had a well documented love of dragons. His former football teammates swore the day he broke the record for most sacks in a single game, he had a dragon necklace around his neck. She took a deep breath. He was even closer now. She slipped a hand into her pocket, pulling the wooden dragon out. She’d hand it to him and ask for his autograph.  _Please sign this… No. Please will you sign this?_  She clutched a simple white posterboard for it. Would he smile? Thank her for the dragon? Or would it be just another dragon a fan had given him yet again?

It all happened at once. Iron Bull looked up from where he had finished signing another fan’s autograph and their eyes met. The jostling behind her increased for a moment before subsiding, but all she could see was the easy smile on his face as he moved over. Just as she began to smile back, there was a jolt in the middle of her back and a tug on her arm. As she fell back, her foot landed on another person’s foot and slipped off and she was falling. Bodies crowded her vision as people pushed forward to where she had been standing and then all she could see was legs. She tried to push herself up off the ground, but a foot landed on her lower back, backing off almost immediately but others soon followed. No one had noticed her fall. They were all too focused on him. She felt panic rise at the back of her throat. But then a hand curled around her arm and she was lifted bodily up. 

Her head was spinning and by the time she figured out she had been pulled out of the crowd and was on the other side of the barriers, Iron Bull’s face swam into view. He was crouching right in front of her and she realized it had been him who had pulled her out of the crowd. She felt her face heat. She wasn’t the smallest person and he had lifted her up like she was nothing. He had needed to save her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She looked down at herself, disheveled and slightly dirty, but nothing hurt more than an ache.

“I think so,” she replied. “Thank you.” He smiled.

“Glad to hear it.” A sudden realization hit her and she looked down at the hand that held the dragon she had carved. The tail was gone, snapped off, and its head hung by a few splinters. Scratches and dings marred the wings. She felt tears prick at her eyes. Ruined.

“Was that for me?” he asked and she almost jumped, realizing he was still there. She looked back up at him, trying to blink away the tears and nodded. He held out his head and with trembling fingers, she placed the broken dragon in his palm. His hands were so large, they dwarfed hers. But before she could get distracted by them, he was speaking.

“Did you make this?” She blinked. He was studying the little dragon intensely.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. His eyes moved back to hers and her breath caught in her chest. 

“Please tell me you do this for a living.” Her eyes went wide and there was a second before she could nod her head. He smiled widely, but before he could say anything else, a man approached him and whispered in his ear.

“Okay, so I have to go,” said Iron Bull as he straightened. “But you have a business card right?” Arlane’s eyes widened even further as she nodded again. He grinned. “Just leave it with Krem here. I want you to make me another dragon.” He pocketed the little broken one and moved off, waving at the screaming fans behind her. The man he had called Krem crouched down, smiling gently at the shock on her face.

“He wants to commission me,” she said faintly. “The Iron Bull wants to commission me.”

“He prefers Bull,” said Krem, offering his hand to help her to her feet. “You didn’t lose anything in the crowd did you?” Jolted from her shock, she looked down at herself, patted her pockets. 

“I have my phone, wallet,” she said.

“Keys?”

“I took the bus. Home key is in my wallet,” she replied. “I guess I lost the posterboard for an autograph. Oh, you need my card.” She pulled her wallet out of her pocket and handed over her business card.

“Skyhold Crafting?” asked Krem, reading the card. She nodded. He pulled out a notebook, writing something down before placing the card in between the pages and replacing the notebook inside his sport coat. He smiled at her again.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the crowd disperses or I can have you walked safely through the crowd.” She took a deep breath, looking from him to where Bull had disappeared to and back to the crowd where she had been pulled from.

“This is real,” she said softly. His smile softened.

“It is, Miss Lavellan.” She blinked, shocked.

“Oh,” she said, realizing and flushing. “My card.” He laughed but not rudely.

“We have a tent set up for the security team. You have to stay off your phone, but I’ll take you over there and settle for a bit before we send you home. A lot has happened.”

“Thank you,” she said as she followed him. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered this. And now she would be working for Bull. She would get to see him again, or at the very least, speak with him over the phone about what he wanted. A smile spread across her face. What a fantastic day.


	33. Prompt: Fluff, Varric

Long days. They had all seemed to be that way lately. She had scarcely enough time to grab some sleep, let alone see Varric. Nobles, troop movements, requisitions, spy reports, more nobles, it never ended. By the time she finished, the moon had already risen halfway into the sky. So when Varric took her by the hand just as she had re-entered the hall and pulled her away from the beckon of her chambers without a word, she resisted.

“I need to show you something,” he said simply. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned but followed him all the same. Out of the hall, down the steps into the courtyard and still he was silent.

“Varric,” she groaned again as he tugged her along. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“Nope,” he replied with a smile, leading her to one of the towers beside the gates and leading her up the stairs to the very top.

“What in the world could be so important up here?” she demanded, annoyance surging forward as he opened the trap door to the small upper terrace. Confusion bled through the annoyance as she saw furs on the stone and a fire lit in the brazier.

“Come on,” he urged as he knelt on one fur, waiting for her to follow before he did anything else.

“Varric…”

“Trust me.” She sighed, hesitating a moment longer before joining him on the furs, situating herself on her back as he had done once he saw her moving over.

“What are we doing?” she asked as the silence built.

“Just look.” She shifted slightly as her eyes flicked back to the stars. The wind didn’t touch them where they lay, blowing over top of the battlements. The fire in the brazier wasn’t bright enough to dim the thousands of stars above but still provided a cozy warmth. Thousands of stars. It was, wasn’t it? Her eyes tracked across the heavens. She hadn’t done this since she had left Orzammar the first time. Staring up at the stars then she had been more terrified than fascinated. Now… The sky went on forever and as far as it went on there were more stars than she could count. Her mouth fell open slightly as one shot across the sky. It was if it had woken the sky because only a moment later greens and purples and blues began dancing across the stars still shining through in backdrop. She turned her head to look at him. He was looking at her, the softest look in his eyes. 

“I figured you needed some time to relax,” was all he said. She looked back up at the sky, alive like she had never seen. Tears of exhaustion and gratefulness pricked at her eyes. He smiled, looking back up at the sky as well. They lay there in silence, just watching for the longest time.

“I never want this night to end,” she finally whispered. He turned his head to the side to study her. She copied his motion and their eyes met. He smiled then and twined his fingers into hers, squeezing.

“Me neither.”


	34. Prompt: Please don't leave AND I almost lost you, Solas

Her eyes slowly cracked open. Dull pain throbbed in her leg. She had been alone and caught unawares by… she couldn’t remember. Had she seen? She couldn’t remember. She let her eyes fall shut again. Foolish. It was entirely unlike her to be caught off guard, too many years as a scout for her clan to hone her senses. But then… where had her attackers gone? Could they still be near? As her mind sharpened, she realized the pain in her leg was throbbing against something wrapped tighter than she ever wore her trousers. Someone had bandaged her wounds. She kept her eyes closed, listening, waiting. A rustle nearby, someone moving closer. They paused by her, kneeling down after a moment. But before she could spring a surprise attack, they sighed.

“I almost lost you…”

Her eyes snapped open. She knew that voice. And it was. Impossibly, it was him. She had surprised him just as badly as his voice had her, though she could only tell from how long they had been together, his eyes widening only ever so slightly, the telltale sign in how his ears dipped for a second. Before she could say anything, he rose and strode purposefully away.

“Solas,” she called, sitting up. She winced as the pain in her leg sharpened briefly, but she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Still he walked away. 

“Solas!” she called again, hissing as she attempted to get to her feet. But the only sound that answered her was his continued brisk pace, feet rustling in the grass.

“Solas!!” she cried again, desperation ringing clear in her voice as she struggled a few steps after him. But already, she knew he wouldn’t stop. So she stopped chasing him. Taking a deep breath, she spoke a single word, calmly, evenly. 

“Fen’Harel.” He jerked as if he had been struck, wheeling around to stare wide-eyed at her. She met his gaze, trying desperately to ignore the kernel of fear in her heart that had nothing to do with what she was about to say.

“How…?” The edges of her lips twitched upwards for a brief moment, but it looked more sad than anything.

“The Well. I spent so much time wondering and worrying and just thinking about you, eventually it gave me the answer.” He stared for the longest time.

“You’re afraid of me,” he finally said, oh so softly. She flinched, her eyes squeezing shut. When she opened them again, he was turning away.

“No, Solas, Fen’Harel, please,” she said frantically, reaching towards him. “Yes, but please,  _please_ , just listen.” He paused glancing back ever so slightly and she jumped at the opening.

“All my life I have been told tales of the Dread Wolf. We have farewells wishing that the Dread Wolf may never catch your scent. Yes, I’m scared, but I’m still trying to figure all of this out. So much of what we know is wrong. What we knew about Mythal was wrong. What we knew about the Creators was so wrong. I know the Dread Wolf’s story, but I’m pretty sure…” She shook her head, corrected herself. “But I know, that story cannot be the real story in its entirety. Please, please, give me the time to figure this out. Tell me what happened. Let me help you. Please. Just please don’t leave.” He had slowly turned back towards her as she spoke. He stood in the silence after her words, head bowed. She waited, tense. Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. And her heart broke all over again.

“I can’t.”


	35. Prompt: I'm pregnant

Elissa took a deep breath. The sixth in the last two minutes, but who was counting. She shook her head sharply, trying to dispel the nervous energy and thoughts. But it just wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be. Not now. It had been too long. They had gotten pregnant once, early. Only a few months after the defeat of the archdemon. But she had miscarried a couple months after that, they assumed from the Taint growing too strong because there had been no other chances. That was years ago. How could she possibly be pregnant? They were both Grey Wardens, even if she could keep the baby to term, how would they raise it? Already there were days where she could feel whispers at the back of her mind. How cruel would it be to leave a child on the earth with the few memories of their parents being fighting the Taint? But what was she thinking? The Taint wouldn’t even let it get that far. She’d lose her baby. Again. Her arms curled around her stomach. It wasn’t fair. 

“Hey ‘Lissa I… what’s wrong?” Suddenly, Alistair was in front of her, wiping away the tears she hadn’t known were falling. “Love, what is it?”

“I…” she whispered. Could she even tell him? Get him excited for no reason? He stared at her waiting, just waiting, so concerned. She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again.

“I’m pregnant.” Concern morphed to confusion then quickly to joy, but his face began to fall as he realized the possibilities as much as she had. He pressed a kiss against her forehead before taking a seat beside her, her hands enveloped in his. 

“We’re in this together,” he said softly. “No matter what.” She nodded, squeezing her fingers against his. They sat there in silence. Slowly, an idea that had been floating around her head pushed its way forward.

“Alistair,” she said softly, looking over to meet his eyes. “I’m going to cure the Taint.”


	36. Prompt: Wanna dance?, Fenris

Fenris glared up at the sky. It had decided to start snowing while he had been in Lowtown at The Hanged Man. By the time he had gotten back up to Hightown, the snow had covered the cobblestones. His feet were freezing, but he was glad not to have boots. The footing was slippery enough even to his bare feet. The fire had been low before he left. He’d have to start a new one once he got back to the mansion he lived it. He still couldn’t think of it as his. A giggle broke his thoughts. Confusion turned to astonishment as he saw Hawke outside her manor, wearing the tunic and skirt she wore around the house. The only concession to the cold was a long scarf wrapped multiple times around her neck. 

“Fenris!” she called, catching sight of him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “It’s snowing!” 

“I can see that,” he replied, feeling the corners of his lips twitch. She only giggled, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as if she was a child. It was without a doubt odd to see Hawke acting like this, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as she twirled around, head craned up to watch the snow flutter down.

“When I was little,” she said, still watching the snow, “every time it snowed, my father would tell us the same story. In a land far away, there was a princess born in the middle of a fierce blizzard. As she came crying into the world, the blizzard slowed and stopped. Every time it would snow as she grew up, they’d throw a ball and she’d dance and dance and dance as the snow fell around her. It was always snowing like this the days they threw the balls, it never got any worse and it never stopped until the ball was over. I liked to imagine I was that princess, dancing in the snow. There were times I could even hear the music in my head.” She twirled again, arms held out as if she were dancing with someone before her eyes landed on him once again. Her grin flashed bright.

“Wanna dance?” He hesitated, shuffling his feet before stepping forward and inclining his torso slightly.

“Who could say no to a dance with the snow princess?” he asked with a smirk. She rolled her eyes at him but returned his slight bow with a curtsy. They stepped into each other’s arms and began to swirl around through the snow, footsteps matching as they did in combat, now in fun. The longer it went, the faster they twirled until she was laughing and so was he. They came to a stop and she clung to him, arms curling up under his armpits, hands clutching at his shoulders. 

“Thank you Fenris,” she said softly as they rocked back and forth in place as if they were still dancing. He laid his chin against the top of her head. 

“You’re welcome Hawke.”  

She shivered suddenly.

“Go back inside Hawke,” he urged, though he didn’t let her go. “You’ll catch cold.”

“Says the man not wearing any shoes,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She curled her hand into his and tugged him towards the door. “I know you don’t have a fire waiting for you at that mansion. Come in and get warm Fenris.” There were snowflakes in her hair and the light from the manor behind her set them aglow like jewels. The snow princess. His snow princess. His fingers tightened around her hand slightly as he smiled and followed her into her house.


	37. Prompt: It's not what it looks like, Cullen

Cullen made his way back across the bridge to his office, studying the reports Leliana had given to him. The Inquisition was doing well, but the reports coming out of Emprise Du Lion were only getting more concerning. A clatter from his office had him on the alert and he quickly moved the last few steps, throwing open the door, a hand on his longsword. Wariness turned to confusion and he blinked. The Inquisitor was contorted slightly, a horn caught between the rungs of the ladder up to his quarters, her cheeks starting to go very pink.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she said quickly. He blinked again, his lips twitching.

“It looks like your horn is stuck in the rungs of that ladder,” he said slowly. A pained look crossed her face as she dropped her eyes to the ground.

“It is what it looks like,” she muttered. He swallowed the laugh that had bubbled up in his chest. She must have thought he was waiting for an explanation as she began to speak, eyes still fixed on the ground.

“I heard you coming and turned my head too fast too close to the ladder,” she muttered, blushing even more fiercely with each word. “And I got too flustered to get it out before…” He couldn’t stop the laugh this time. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, trying to stop himself, his shoulders shaking with the suppressed laughs. To his great relief, a slow smile spread on her face. 

“I suppose I was a sight wasn’t I?” She tilted her head, trying to get the horn free.

“Here, let me,” he said, quickly moving forward. “Ah…” He hesitated as he got closer to her, a blush of his own starting to form. The fastest way to get her out was to guide her out, tilting her head the way it needed to go himself. His hand stuttered before sliding against the side of her head, pushing her gently in the direction she needed to go and tugging on her horn with the other hand. It popped out and she straightened, shaking her head. They both avoided eye contact for a moment.

“Wait, you were listening for me to come back? What were you doing?” asked Cullen, looking back towards her. Her blush darkened again. 

“I was… I had… I made a batch of potions for you to take when you get headaches. I was just going to leave it… But then I got distracted by the hole in your roof and ran out of time. You got back before…”

“Inquisitor…” he said, touched by the thought.

“Adaar, please,” she urged, eyes meeting his. 

“Adaar. You really didn’t have to do that. I’m… managing.”

“I wanted to.” The words struck him deeply. He rubbed a hand against the back of his head as looked away.

“I.. Well… That is… Maker’s breath,” he muttered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly. She really was quite beautiful, especially when she blushed. The thought knocked him completely off guard. He quickly looked away as a blush began to spread and he coughed.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, thinking he was trying to move her along. “I’m sure you have so much to do.”

“No,” he said quickly before grimacing at how he was speaking without thinking. “That is, I really do appreciate the thought Adaar.” She smiled.

“Be sure to use them Commander,” she said slightly teasing, knowing him better than he would like to admit. “Have a good night.”

“You as well. Thank you,” he replied.

It was only after she had left that he realized Leliana asking him to meet her hadn’t been coincidence. She had run out of time? The edges of his lips curled up. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care.


	38. Prompt: Carver/Merrill

“Have a good night Carver,” said Merrill with a smile. He blinked, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s your house right there,” she said, pointing just behind him.

“Oh. Yeah, but I’ll walk you home.”

“Why? Nothing ever happens.” Carver shifted, knowing very well that nothing came from Varric.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“But it’s going out of your way,” she said, frowning ever so slightly. 

“It’s not a problem,” he said, attempting a smile, shifting again. She studied him with those beautiful green eyes.

“Do you think I can’t handle myself?”

“What? No,” he said instantly, balking at the accusing tone. He had only wanted to do something nice, spend that little extra time with her even after they had spent the afternoon together. “I know you can…”

“But you’re refusing to go home when its right here,” she stated, eyes never leaving him.

“I…”

“I can’t believe you’re talking me into this.”

“I just want you to be safe,” he blurted. She smiled, the annoyance gone.

“Well, off we go then.” Carver couldn’t seem to find any words as she threaded her arm through his and tugged him off towards the alienage. But as he glanced down and saw the smile still on her face, he had a startling thought. She had meant for him to say it out loud. He sighed, a smile spreading across his face as well. Merrill giggled at the sound, her fingers squeezing against his arm briefly. And it was more than she had just wanted to hear him say it, he realized suddenly. She had wanted him to let go even if goaded and admit his care outside of his head. His smile softened. He was well and truly sunk. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	39. Prompt: You did all this for me?, Varric

“Inquisitor?” 

Sylvi turned, frowning. It was rare that Varric called her Inquisitor anymore. He was holding a thick stack of papers.

“Do you have a moment? I need to speak to you about something.” She almost groaned. She had spent the day dealing with visiting nobles. The last thing she needed was something else. But if Varric was coming to her about that something else, it had to be important.

“My quarters?” she asked.

“That works,” he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes at him as they made their way through the hall and to the door that led to her quarters.

“So what’s this about?” she asked as the door closed behind them and they started up the stairs. 

“I think you’ll figure it out,” he chuckled. She did groan this time.

“If all this was just to get me into bed…” She trailed off, sniffing slightly at the scents that were beginning to reach her. As she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped short. A full dinner was spread out across her desk. In the opposite corner of the room, stood a copper tub, one of Dagna’s runes glowing faintly on the front, warm and fragrant. The smells of the two wafted over her, complimentary and inviting.

“You did all this for me?” she whispered.

“All?” chuckled Varric. “It’s just…” He trailed off at the look on her face. His brows furrowed together in disbelief and concern. 

“No one’s ever done something like this for you.”

She shook her head. “At least not without expecting something in return.”

“Everyone knew how big a pain in the ass those nobles were going to be. I figured you’d need a break.” She blinked a few times.

“The papers?” He laughed.

“Old manuscripts.” Her smile bloomed, bright and beautiful.

“Thank you Varric. This is perfect.”

“Anything for you Syl.”


	40. Prompt: You did all this for me, Vega

“Did there have to be all that media?” she groaned. Vega laughed.

“The galaxy’s savior was released from the hospital. That’s going to make the news Lola.”

“Don’t call me that,” she almost snapped, frowning. Vega fell silent as he pushed her wheelchair, knowing she wasn’t talking about the nickname. Her body wasn’t the only thing that had needed repair after the catalyst had activated. Too much wartime stress for too long had left her with paranoia, an inability to function ‘properly’ at times, basically PTSD though she balked every time the phrase was uttered. Her friends had quickly learned to let those moments when she snapped at them go. She groaned suddenly.

“Shepard?” he asked, slowing slightly. 

“I still need physical therapy. I’ll have to go back to the hospital. The media won’t disappear overnight.”

“Well…” he said as the door to her apartment slid open. She gaped as they entered. Equipment was scattered everywhere. And not just any equipment.

“We knew the media would be bad awhile,” he said quietly as he slowed her chair to a stop. She just stared at all the physical therapy equipment. “So I got ahold of all this stuff. Chakwas, and EDI while she’s around, will come over to do your PT. You’ll still occasionally have to go back to the hospital, but…”

“You did all this for me?” she asked quietly. He shifted uncomfortably.

“It wasn’t a big deal. We all pitched in.” As he moved around her chair to head further into the apartment, she grabbed hold of his hand.

“James,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey, none of that Lola,” he protested quickly as he crouched down in front of her, reaching up to brush away the single tear that rolled down her cheek. 

“Thank you.” Her voice cracked even as soft as it was. A smile tugged at his lips. His fingers lingered ever so lightly against her cheek.

“Sure Lola. Anytime.”


	41. Prompt: Don't you dare throw that snowball... goddammit, Kaidan

It had been a few weeks since Sovereign had been defeated. Shepard and the crew of the Normandy had been back on Earth at the Vancouver base for a few days for debriefings and between all the meetings on further missions and victory tours, shore leave. Shepard and Kaidan had found a few hours in the afternoon free one day and he had pulled out of Alliance HQ to a small nearby park. It was winter and happened to be snowing that day. Bundled up in jackets, scarves, and hats it was hard to distinguish them, the heroes of the galaxy, from any other couple on the streets. They still hadn’t discussed exactly what they were, still just living in the moment and enjoying what they had. 

As they reached the park, she moved ahead of him, head moving back and forth.

“It’s beautiful Kaidan,” she said, glancing back at him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And it looks like it’s just us.” Something in his tone had her turning back towards him.

“Don’t,” she warned, immediately seeing the mischief in his eyes. He only grinned.

“I know you have a snowball behind your back. Don’t. Don’t you dare throw that…” She shrieked as the snowball nailed her right between the shoulder blades as she turned away.

“Goddamit! Now you’re in for it,” she yelled, bending down to pack together her own snowball. 

And the war was on. Snowballs flew through the air, the few that hit their targets accompanied by grunts, shrieks, and curses. After a long back and forth, they stood studying each other. She held a snowball in each hand, while he was currently empty. She grinned and he knew she thought she had him.

With another of those mischievous grins, his biotics flared and the snow at his feet started to move towards her as if being shoveled, the pile rapidly growing higher as he pushed forward. 

“Cheater!” she bellowed. “No biotics!” Though the laughter she dissolved into after only encouraged Kaidan as he pushed the deluge of snow closer and closer as she retreated, pelting snowball after snowball into the barrier of biotics and snow, still laughing like he had never heard her laugh.

“Do you yield Commander?” he asked, smirking, close enough to finish her off. Defiance flashed in her eyes as she stood her ground.

“Never.” He grinned and dumped the snow over top of her as she shrieked again, her laughter muffled underneath the snow. 

“You’ll pay for this Alenko!” Kaidan only laughed.

“I do believe I won Shepard.” She didn’t respond. He moved closer as he waited for her to pop out of the snow and was taken unawares as her hand exploded from the snow, latching onto his ankle and pulling his feet out from under him. With a yelp, he fell back, his arms wheeling only to land flat on his back. She burst from the pile of snow, showering him with it as she pinned his shoulders to the ground.

“Who’s won now Lieutenant?” she asked slightly breathlessly, her eyes still bright from the laughter and the challenge.

“I believe that only makes us even,” he retorted, that delicious smirk pulling at his lips.

“Well then,” she purred as she lazily lowered herself closer to him. “How about I fix that?” His eyes slid shut as he felt her breath warm against his skin. Her lips brushed against his. 

And that’s when she stuffed a handful of snow down both his jacket and shirt.

“SHEPARD!!!”


	42. Prompt: You did all this for me?, Varric

“Inquisitor?” 

Sylvi turned, frowning. It was rare that Varric called her Inquisitor anymore. He was holding a thick stack of papers.

“Do you have a moment? I need to speak to you about something.” She almost groaned. She had spent the day dealing with visiting nobles. The last thing she needed was something else. But if Varric was coming to her about that something else, it had to be important.

“My quarters?” she asked.

“That works,” he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes at him as they made their way through the hall and to the door that led to her quarters.

“So what’s this about?” she asked as the door closed behind them and they started up the stairs. 

“I think you’ll figure it out,” he chuckled. She did groan this time.

“If all this was just to get me into bed…” She trailed off, sniffing slightly at the scents that were beginning to reach her. As she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped short. A full dinner was spread out across her desk. In the opposite corner of the room, stood a copper tub, one of Dagna’s runes glowing faintly on the front, warm and fragrant. The smells of the two wafted over her, complimentary and inviting.

“You did all this for me?” she whispered.

“All?” chuckled Varric. “It’s just…” He trailed off at the look on her face. His brows furrowed together in disbelief and concern. 

“No one’s ever done something like this for you.”

She shook her head. “At least not without expecting something in return.”

“Everyone knew how big a pain in the ass those nobles were going to be. I figured you’d need a break.” She blinked a few times.

“The papers?” He laughed.

“Old manuscripts.” Her smile bloomed, bright and beautiful.

“Thank you Varric. This is perfect.”

“Anything for you Syl.”


	43. Prompt: Are we in an alternate universe or did you just crack a smile for me?, Cullen

The Inquisitor leaned against the doorway to the great hall of Skyhold, looking down into the courtyard at the freshly built training grounds. Cullen had already gathered up the recruits, standing at attention in neatly dressed lines and was giving a speech she couldn’t hear at her distance. 

“It certainly makes a statement,” commented Varric as he walked up.

“What does?” she asked, glancing down at him. 

“Coming into Skyhold to see the soldiers training,” he replied before smirking slightly. “Or our lovely Inquisitor eyeing up the Commander of the Inquisition.” She rolled her eyes.

“You can stop digging any time Varric.” He chuckled and let the subject drop. 

“Do you think it makes the right statement?” she asked after a brief silence as they both watched the recruits go through their drills as Cullen barked orders.

“It does.” Varric moved forward, heading down the steps. She followed. “The Inquisition’s already known as helpers thanks to you. Now the people who visit will have the stories of our strength to take out to others too.” She considered this silently as they approached the ringed training grounds. 

“See?” he asked, subtly pointing to the refugees, the pilgrims, even a few nobles taking notice of the area. “It’s working already.” 

“Good,” she replied with a smile. As they watched the recruits, the Inquisitor saw one over balance himself with a flailing swipe of his sword. Cullen’s voice rang out immediately offering both chastisement and encouragement. As he looked away, he caught sight of her and smiled briefly before turning back to the recruits. 

“Are we in an alternate dimension or did Cullen just crack a smile for you?” The Inquisitor sighed. 

“I know you’ve seen him smile before.”

“Never in the middle of training recruits I haven’t,” he replied right back. Only silence met him and as he turned towards her, she looked away. His smirk appeared almost triumphantly. 

“Oh, enough,” she sighed. “I know you’re smirking.”

“Nothing of the kind, your Inquisitorialness,” he responded, his smirking widening even further. She rolled her eyes but laughed as she turned, heading back towards the hall. Varric only shook his head as he watched Cullen’s eyes follow her. If neither of them got the guts to move faster than the glacial speed they were moving, no one was going to win the pot. Or all the rifts in Thedas might be closed by the time they got together. 

“Hey,” called a voice and Varric turned to see Bull squinting suspiciously at him.

“You cheating?” the Qunari asked.

“You wound me Tiny,” said Varric, the insulted tone ruined by the laughter in his voice. “A little push isn’t cheating.” 

“Uh huh,” Bull replied dryly. “Call it what you will. You won’t win that pot.”

“That’s what you think Tiny. That’s what you think.”


	44. Prompt: I see someone's happy to see me, Fenris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW, nothing explicit

Fenris took another swig of wine. The sun had set a few hours previous. Hawke hadn’t been by that day. Only recently had they reconciled and though she had taken him back, though she had wanted him, he was still very aware of the pain he had caused her. He wondered if she would drop by. They had been rather… physical lately, almost as if making up for lost time, but the last time, he’d had another memory flash. It wasn’t as painful this time, there wasn’t the shock the first time had brought, but still as distressing. The difference was this time he had woken her. She had been gentle and understanding, helping him through it as she said she would do when he had originally left, but he wondered if she would keep her distance for a little while for his sake. 

Honestly, he had come to the realization before he had even confessed his feelings to her that he would take the price of the memory flashes to be with her, no matter how numerous. He was obsessed with learning every nuance of her body, addicted to every noise she made, the look in her eyes, the way she breathed his name. He could see her shudder beneath him, see that one splendid night when the moon shone in the window perfectly to frame her as she rode atop him. He shuddered, the images playing in his mind having an expected result between his legs. But before he could decide whether or not to continue his indulgences, he heard someone heading up the stairs. He had missed the sound of the door. The next moment, she swept into the room with a smile.

“Fenris, hi,” she greeted.

“Hawke,” he said, brightening. She  _had_  come to visit. 

“Well, someone’s happy to see me,” she said with a small smile and a gently teasing tone. At the words, Fenris was abruptly reminded of the consequences of allowing those images to replay in his mind. The tips of his ears flamed red at Hawke’s choice of words. He coughed, searching for something to say.

“It is… nice… to see you, yes,” he managed. She blinked, cocking her head to the side in confusion, before a blush flamed across her cheeks.

“Oh. Ah,” she said, lips twitching in an apparent attempt to keep from smiling. “If I was interrupting…”

“No,” he said quickly. “I…” He fell silent. Would she find it weird he was thinking about their times together? 

“I can catch up,” she said. Her voice had dropped slightly and as his head snapped towards her, she was shrugging off her jacket, the blush on her cheeks settling deeper in a sign he knew and recognized. He had caused it enough times. She paused as her fingers reached the buttons on her shirt.

“If you want to?” He stood abruptly, his own hands going to the clasps on his gauntlets, letting them fall the floor before grabbing her and kissing her fiercely. It seemed almost every time it was a frantic race to get skin to skin and this time was no different as each fumbled with their own clothing or armor in Fenris’ case. 

He took her on the table, neither of them willing to move the extra few feet to the cot he had set up. But it seemed that wasn’t enough and before it was all said and done, she took him on the floor. There they lay, sweat cooling in the dim heat from the failing fire. She rolled onto her side.

“Fenris?”

“Hm?” he replied, turning slightly towards her in response.

“Your floor is filthy.” He couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. He didn’t know if it was the matter-of-fact way she said it, or the completely serious look on her face that made it as funny to him as it was.

“I believe it was you who brought us down here.”

“Yes, well…” She didn’t appear to have an answer to that and he just smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She blinked. She was still slightly thrown off by just how causally he could offer those little moments of intimacy, as was he, to be honest. But her face quickly softened into a smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t have this problem in my bedroom,” she said, getting back to the matter at hand.

“We aren’t always in your bedroom. Obviously,” he said with a wry grin.

“We could be,” she said softly. “Move in with me.” He froze, entirely unsure what to think, how to react.

“Relax,” she said calmly, reaching out to gently take his hand in hers. “You don’t need to say anything. You don’t need to answer right now, or even tomorrow. Just think about it. Please?” His muscles slowly untensed as he stared into her beautiful grey eyes, so understanding and caring even now.

“I’ll think about it Willa,” he promised. She smiled, squeezing his hand.

“Thank you.”


	45. Prompt: I love it when you talk dirty, Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW! Explicit content

“The Deep Roads? The fucking Deep Roads. They want us to go the Deep Roads!”

“I’m sorry, I think I missed where they want us to go,” said Varric as Sylvi paced back and forth from one end of her desk to the other. She hurled a crumpled up piece of paper that would have nailed him in the head if he hadn’t ducked, chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” she started annoyed. “You’re coming with me.”

“Oh? Since when?” he asked, mock innocence on his face.

“Ass. If I have to deal with those cramped, dirty, darkspawn-infested tunnels and the high and mighty ‘real’ dwarves, days without sunlight, crumbling roads, and that forsaken smell, you have to deal with it too.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” said Varric, smirking, agreeing with her completely. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. but seemed to have finally forgotten her annoyance. Or at least found a good enough reason to move on.

“You love a lot of things my mouth does,” she replied, matching his smirk with one that set a fire blazing under his skin. So effortlessly she did that to him. It was maddening. A breath later, she was in front of him.

“See?” she asked, a slight breathy note to her voice as she cupped the front of his trousers. “You’re half hard already and I only just touched you.” 

Varric opened his mouth to retort, but could only hiss as her hand darted into his trousers and small clothes in one go, her fingers curling around his shaft. 

“Oh?” she said, eyes widening in an innocence as mocking as his had been moments earlier. “Has the storyteller forgotten his words?”

“Ass,” he managed, groaning as she pumped teasingly. She laughed as she pushed him back towards the bed, her other hand untying the laces to his pants. Gravity had pulled them halfway down his legs when he hit the bed and he quickly pulled them and his smalls off. As he reached for her after, she only pushed him back onto the bed. He clambered up until he was seated up by the headboard, supported by the pillows. He moved to take off his jacket and shirt, but before he had even shrugged the jacket off his shoulders, she had hopped up, crawled over to him, and sank her mouth around his cock.

“Ah!” His cock twitched at the sudden damp heat as her tongue swirled around his head. He could feel her smirk around him as she bobbed once, the tip of her tongue trailed up the underside of his cock as she rose until it flicked against the tip. His hips bucked against his will and she pulled away briefly to laugh, one hand providing long, smooth pumps against his length.

“Someone’s excited.” He glared, knowing her well enough that she wanted him to try and speak so she could surprise him with something else. She only grinned, leaning back down to kiss her way down his shaft, lips feathering lightly against the soft, warm skin. His eyes fluttered shut as he bit back a groan. She took one of his balls in her mouth, sucking gently as she switched from pumping to caressing, fingers stroking up and down the length of him. He did groan as she switched to the other ball, fingers curling into her hair. 

“Fuck Syl…” The words seemed to spur her, shifting back to his cock, licking the bead of pre-cum off his tip before taking him back in her mouth again. She bobbed her head, the rhythm steady. Her fingers tickled at his thighs and his breath caught more than once as he swallowed grunts and moans to the best of his ability. Feeling himself begin to get too tight of a grip on her hair, he instead curled his fingers into the bed cover, breathing heavily and trying to control the rock of his hips against her. He felt her smile and the next moment, with every bob of her head, her tongue flicked against the tip of his cock, trailed back down the underside before coming right back up and flicking again. He cried out, hips jerking. She simply pressed a hand against his hips and continued her ministrations. It wasn’t long before the heat that had pooled low in his belly began to tighten. She pushed him closer and closer. His fingers twitched. He was so close. Right before he reached the point of no return, he reached down for her, intending on stopping her before he came, but she batted his hands away, intent on her goal, and took him entirely into her mouth, wiry hairs brushing at her nose.

“Shit. Syl. I’m. Fuck.” With a hum of approval, she deliberately swallowed. The combined stimulation of the hum and the caress of the back of her throat against his head proved too much and with a guttural yell, he came, the hands that had reached down to pull her away, now clutching her to him. She shuddered as his seed coated the back of her throat, swallowing it, the motions of her throat also serving to prolong his high.

“Minx,” he rasped. She was smirking as she sat up.

“Oh yeah. That’ll echo forever in the Deep Roads.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” he managed to retort, still trying to catch his breath. “You’ll be louder than me.”

“Why Messere Tethras are you suggesting you could make me scream?”

He was over top of her in a second, a hand on her breast, the other creeping down her pants.

“I don’t have to suggest,” he whispered into her ear as he leaned down, feeling triumph as he heard the tiny catch in her breathing.

“Prove it,” she hissed into his ear, sinking her teeth into his earlobe.

He did. Just like she had wanted him to.


	46. Prompt: Don't mind me just enjoying the view, Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW! Explicit content
> 
> Reminder: Arlane=Ahr-luh-nay

Arlane trudged up the stairs to her quarters, one hand massaging at her lower back. Most of the day had been spent leaning over the War Table discussing troop movements, rift appearances, rumors of red lyrium, it had never ended. As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw Bull lounging across her bed, studying some reports of his own. She smiled, feeling warm that he had been waiting for her.

“Hey.”

“Hey boss,” he replied easily. Seeing he wasn’t quite finished with his own work, she moved over to her desk, and set down her own stack of reports. Free of her burden, she stretched her hands over her head, arching her back slightly and twisted back and forth, trying to get the crick out of her back. She was so focused on trying to relieve the tension, it took awhile for her to feel his stare. She opened her eyes, glancing over at him.

“Don’t mind me,” he said with a smirk, heat in his gaze. “Just enjoying the view.” She flushed, not saying anything in reply, instead ever so slightly pushing her breasts forward and sucking her stomach in, even as she continued her twisting. She sighed as she finally felt the pop in her back that dissolved the tension sitting there. As she began to lower her arms, his voice snapped out.

“No. Keep them up.” Instantly, she had them back up at their full height above her head, heat pooling in her belly at  _that_  voice Bull always used when he commanded her. The bed creaked and she looked over to see him prowling towards her. That wasn’t the right word she knew, but he always had such a particular way of moving before the fun started. He didn’t stop as he reached her, instead grabbing her wrists with one hand, much as he had the first day he had shown up in her quarters, and backed her towards the closest bedpost. Her head was craned back so she could watch his face. She always had a hard time reading him, but she knew the glint in his eye could only mean a new idea, a new experience. He held her hands against the bedpost and paused for a moment.

“Your back okay for this?” he asked. Warmth bloomed in her chest at his concern.

“Fine,” she replied. True, her back didn’t feel the best, but she was too excited for whatever he had in mind to care. He studied her a moment before reaching between the foot board and the mattress for the coil of rope he kept there. He looped it first around her wrists, a practiced and meticulous motion.

“Good?” he asked, pausing as he finished. 

“Yes,” she replied, knowing his preference for verbal answers during the times he held or tied her down. She wiggled her fingers to prove her point. His lips twitched as he curled the rope around the post, tugging her up ever so slightly so her feet weren’t completely flat on the floor. He studied the bindings a moment longer before stepping back, a finger trailing down her arm, her shoulder, past the swell of her breast.

“Still good?” he asked as that finger trailed lower. When she didn’t respond, he lifted the finger away and she hissed, having been too focused on where his finger was heading to respond.

“Yes. I’m fine,” she said quickly, hoping he’d resume building that fire curled in her core. But he was smirking now and she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky. After a pause, he began unbuttoning her shirt. She bit back a moan of impatience. Bull always did this, got her worked up and then slowed back down to a crawl. She had always looked for release, as much as she enjoyed what came before, when she got to a certain point, she didn’t wait any longer. He forced her to, drew it out. And in doing so, allowed her to truly let go over her release like she hadn’t been able to before. She loved it. She hated it.

He was only halfway down her shirt and she fought the urge to buck, knowing from experience he’d just slow down further. When he finally reached the bottom, he just let it fall open. He seemed to consider for a moment before reaching out and tugging down her breast bindings, leaving them still tied underneath her breasts, pushing them up slightly. Another pause of consideration and he tugged down both pants and smallclothes in one go, leaving them tangled around her boots. Then, he stood back and stared. She flushed, fighting the urge to fidget. She’d never realized how much a simple stare could do to her before Bull. He looked at her like he could never get enough, like he had never seen anything like her before. He stared until she was sure she the red of her blush had spread down her neck and across her chest. When he moved next, it was to kneel and this time she didn’t bite back the noise of anticipation in time. He tilted his head up, cocking an eyebrow. She bit her lip, the sight of him looking up at her sending a thrill through her. She couldn’t help the words that came next.

“An even better view than before,” she prodded with a smirk.

Bull chucked, so pleased at how self-accepting the comment was, he let the goad that would normally bring her a swat on the ass go.

“One hell of a view,” he agreed, eyes moving up her body from her slit, already beginning to glisten and he had barely touched her yet, to her stomach, breasts, face up to where her wrists were tied to the bedpost. His eyes lingered there briefly, making sure the bonds weren’t cutting the blood flow to her hands and fingers. Getting another wiggle of her fingers in response, he turned his attention back to the junction of her thighs, spreading her legs as far apart as they would go still trapped in her pants and smallclothes. His fingers lingered on her thighs, thumbs just barely brushing, more like teasing, a sensitive area of skin by her wiry curls where her torso and legs met. She shouldn’t have been surprised at how quickly and easily he had found the areas of her body that could pull a higher response from her, most within the first time. She was only grateful now as she shuddered, sending goosebumps rippling along her skin. His mouth joined his fingers, starting at the side of her knee, slowly nipping and kissing his way up her thigh, his beard brushing at the soft skin. Her breathing had quickened. Just as he began to reach where she wanted him, he bit down, harder than before but not hard enough to cause any significant pain. She cried out in surprise, flinching as he began to suck at the tender area until a mark to his liking appeared. He pressed his lips against it, slightly chapped and rasping deliciously across it before he switched to her other leg, repeating his path up her thigh. She was ready for when he marked her this time, shuddering at the feeling. 

And then finally, he was turning his attention to where the heat curled and throbbed. He grinned widely as he teased her lips apart, revealing the wetness that had already gathered there.

“Bull,” she breathed, back arching as the cool air hit her center. 

“Patience,” he growled warningly. “You will wait.” She trembled as she did as she was told, the heat only throbbing more as she watched him stare at her most intimate of places. It was only when she felt her walls clench for the first time that he moved. With the flat of his tongue, he took one long lick of her. She twitched, a low groan caught in the back of her throat. When he repeated the gesture, flicking at her clit with the tip of his tongue as he reached the top of her, she gasped, her head falling back against the bedpost. He seemed to savor both her taste and her reaction before repeating the action. The pattern continued, not often enough to put her close to the edge, but enough that her hips were rolling with him, the groans that had caught in her throat now made it past her lips, and she had begun tugging at her bonds, the only real place she had to react to the flood of heat each time his tongue touched her.

Suddenly, after Bull had flicked his tongue past her clit, he flicked it back down again. She jolted at the break in pattern, a breathless gasp dropping her mouth briefly into an ‘o’ before she bit at her lip against the throb in the sensitive nub that followed. Attention focused on that part of her now, he sucked and teased, fingers caressing the fold of skin between the back of her thighs and her ass. Her legs began to close around his head until she could feel the rasp of his beard against her thighs and against the marks he had left, making her shudder. He simply shifted his hands up, spreading her again as he continued his attentions. She felt a sudden release of tension as her hips bucked, though minor, and he paused, pulling back to study her. Her walls clenched a few times as if she had climaxed but both she and he knew it was miles away from her true ones. Only a warmup. She felt his lips curl into a smirk against her, waiting for her to tense before he slid a finger into her wet and ready heat. A shaky cry flew from her lips as she clenched further around the digit, aided even more by the hard suckle against her clit. Slowly, he began to thrust his finger in and out of her in a pattern she couldn’t quite wrap her muddled brain around. Four slow and long, one quick and hard? Or was it three then two? As he resumed flicking her nub with the tip of his tongue, she quickly forgot about trying to determine the pattern. Half-formed curses in two languages emerged in jibberish that said clearly how much his ministrations were affecting her. When he added a second finger, she arched so sharply, she rose onto the balls of her feet for a brief moment, pulling against her bonds. His tongue against her slowed then stopped though his fingers kept moving.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” she gasped desperately as quickly as she could. “Oh,  _please_  don’t stop.” He showed his approval in a curl of his fingers against a most sensitive spot inside her. A long, low moan escaped her at that, head once again falling back against the bedpost. He loved to hear her beg, some nights not allowing her to find a climax until she had. Those nights she was stubborn because she knew he wanted it, keeping it locked behind her lips until she he pulled it out of her. But tonight, she hadn’t even given it a thought. The heat he had so slowly stoked in her brought a haze to her mind like smoke in a closed room. Everything else had fallen away and it was only him, her, and the explosions of pleasure and need inside her. 

His mouth was back against her now, much more emphatic. The ball of heat low in her belly was curling tighter, turning into a heated ball of tension but before it could release, he pulled away, leaving only her heavy breathing to fill the room. His fingers were still inside her though and she stayed silent, hoping he’d continue. He paused there briefly before Bull curled his fingers inside her, pressing against the area he knew was sensitive. A long moan escaped her, fracturing into smaller ones as he quickened his pace briefly. After a moment, he reached up and pressed a hand over her mouth, careful to keep her nose free. Her hips bucked as she heard her now muffled moans. She always became more aware of the sounds she made when she was gagged, as he well knew. Bull smirked and began moving his fingers in and out again, curling them at their furthest point inside her before withdrawing and repeating. She sucked in air sharply through her nose, eyes rolling briefly at the sensation. It quickly shuddered back out as she heard the sound of his fingers moving in and out of her and she cried out as it sent a bolt of heat through her.

“You hear how wet you are ‘Lane? You hear that?” he growled at her as he began to move his fingers even faster. She twisted, legs clamping down around his hand in a effort to stop the overwhelming sensations crashing down on her. But still his fingers moved. She didn’t see when he moved his mouth back towards her, but she felt it when he sucked at her clit, sending her hard over the edge, her cry ringing free in the room since he had removed the hand over her mouth as he felt her clench around his fingers. Her juices dripped down his hand as he continued moving inside her, prolonging her climax. He chuckled as her leg muscles trembled wildly in an attempt to keep her upright. She seemed to relax as his fingers stilled which only drew a different kind of chuckle from him. Her eyes snapped to him, knowing that chuckle only meant mischief. 

“I think you’re ready to go again,” he said with a smirk. She gaped, still feeling her walls clenching in aftershocks. He simply moved back towards her.

“No, no, ah!” she cried out quickly but it was too late, his mouth already back at her clit. She was lost in the sensations, strung like a wire not quite loosened from the last time before being tightened yet again. When he added a third finger, she sobbed, twisting back and forth.

“Let go. Let go ‘Lane,” he urged. And after another moment of fighting it, she let go, surrendered herself to the sing of every nerve ending in her body, from the overwhelming throbbing in her clit urged by his tongue, to the smooth rasp of the rope against her wrists. Lost in the feelings, she exploded. She came twice before her legs gave out, Bull grabbing her around the waist to keep her from dangling from her wrists. He stood, one hand reaching for her hands and quickly had them free, though still locked together in his firm yet gentle grip. Still supporting her weight with his other hand, he helped her to the ground where she knelt, still gasping for breath.

She was almost level with his cock, tenting his trousers, though he quickly shoved them off revealing the hard member, a bead of pre-cum at the tip as it stood straight up. Having an idea of what he had in mind, she wasn’t surprised as his free hand went to the side of her head to pull her closer, only having allowed her a brief moment to recover. Even so, she eagerly opened her mouth, allowing him to slide in. He rocked slightly, gauging how far he could go without causing her to gag since she didn’t have her hands to help guide him before he truly began thrusting and fucking her mouth. He didn’t last as long as he normally would. She had learned rather quickly that when she was able to let go when he urged her to, it always sent him ridiculously close to the edge. A hoarse “Fuck!” was the only warning she had to his seed spilling into her mouth. She swallowed as best she could, though a bit trickled out the side of her mouth as he pulled out. Gently, it was always gently after, he let go of her wrists, steadying her as she slumped completely to the floor. She was still gasping, a combination of her orgasms and the final blow job. It took only a few moments until Bull was steady enough again to lift her into his arms, setting her on the bed. He was smiling as he brushed away the bit of his seed she had missed.

“ _That_  was good.” She nodded fervently.

“Oh yeah,” she agreed, beginning to struggle with the tangle of her boots and pants. He took over so she shrugged off her shirt and undid her breast bindings, letting them fall off the side of the bed. Her boots followed one by one as he unlaced and removed them. The pants and underclothes came off easily then. She sighed as she slid down the pillows contently to lay on her back, now completely naked. The skin around his good eye crinkled as his smile widened briefly.

“You okay?” he asked as he circled to sit on the other side of the bed, his eye going to her wrists.

“Yes. I’m great,” she laughed, slightly out of it, exhausted from the day and their exertions.

“Back still good?” he asked.

“A little sore,” she admitted. A half-smile half-smirk tugged at his lips as he nudged her over onto her stomach. She complied, laughing slightly but it quickly turned to a groan as Bull’s hands began to knead the stiff muscles in her lower back. He chuckled in response. As silence fell, Arlane found herself beginning to drift, her thoughts becoming less coherent. The warmth in her chest that had surged when he first asked about her back had returned. Not only had he given her  _quite_  an experience but now he was giving her a massage. It wasn’t that she was a stranger to his care, his concern. But every single time it still touched her tremendously. It wasn’t long before she was falling asleep, his large warm hands still massaging her back. Her last thought before sleep took her was simple even if she had forgotten it by the time she woke up.

_I love you._


	47. Prompt: Breathe come on breathe please, Fenris

Fenris didn’t know what to do. He had been helpless in the throne room and he was helpless now. Willa had passed out as he had raced to her estate, cradling her in his arms. Isabela and Varric were searching Darktown as they spoke for Anders. Her face was white. So white. But he couldn’t bear to lower his eyes. To see the gaping wound in her torso where she had been impaled by the Arishok’s blade. His stomach flipped nastily. There had been so much blood. She hadn’t had the mana to waste to heal herself as she should. The estate was silent, only his ragged breathing to fill the room. Bodahn was with Sandal, trying to keep him calm while Orana waited by the cellar door for Anders. If they found him. 

Fenris squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t think that. For once, he had to rely on the mage. Hawke’s life hung in the balance. As he opened his eyes, everything froze. Was she breathing? He couldn’t tell. In a rush, his blood roared in his ears. Pain ran sharp claws through his chest. Finally, he moved, after what had seemed a lifetime but been only a second.

“Breathe!” he urged, his voice so desperate he barely recognized it. “Breathe!!” Already on his knees, he leaned forward, fingers digging into the carpet as his hands landed by her side.

“Hawke, please! Breathe. Come on…” His shoulders began to slump. Useless to the end. “Breathe… please…” Though his voice had dropped to a whisper, it still cracked at the last word, the pain spreading through the room as surely as her blood soaked into the carpet. He felt tears prick at his eyes.

“Hawke…”

The room exploded in noise as Anders, Isabela, and Varric appeared from nowhere. Fenris found himself on his feet halfway across the room, the glow of Anders’ magic apparent even around him, Isabela and Varric, who flanked him on both sides.

There Fenris stood, ragged, waiting to know if he had just lost everything all over again.


	48. Slow Dancing, Varric

Varric stood before her, torso half inclined in a bow with his hand out, an eyebrow quirked and a warm smile on his face. She almost laughed. Ignoring the Orlesians being obvious in their attempts of subtly observing the Inquisitor and the author, she took his hand and he swept her around, placing his other hand at her waist. She expected him to begin to lead her into the dancing she’d seen all night at the Winter Palace, but he pulled her closer, his hand sliding around her waist until it was resting comfortably in the small of her back. He touched his forehead briefly to hers before they began rocking back and forth to the music. Slowly, everything else fell away. The politics, the fighting, the growing crowd of nobles trying to peek out onto the balcony, all forgotten in favor of the man in front of her. The spread of his fingers against her back, the look in his eyes that said she was the only thing on the planet that mattered. With a contented sigh, she laid her head against his shoulder. He chuckled slightly as he let go of her hand so both his arms could encircle her. Her hands slid up his chest to clutch at his formalwear. She could hear the band slow, knew the song was almost over.

“I never want this moment to end…” she whispered. Varric said nothing, though a hand moved, reaching to tilt her head up so he could capture her lips with his. It said everything he needed to. Even when that moment ended, even when they had to turn back to Orlesians pretending to be supremely uninterested, they had that moment in their hearts. And were all the better for it.


	49. Sing me a lullaby, Blackwall

Beside him, his lady flipped to one side, then the other. A pause. She flipped again, tugged at the sheets. Opening one eye, he curled an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

“If you don’t stop moving you won’t get to sleep,” he said, amused.

“I  _can’t_  sleep,” she muttered. “Can’t stop thinking.” His arm tightened around her. Asking her about it would only make her focus on it more, but he couldn’t think of anything to both distract and calm her down. Beneath his arm, she shifted again and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Thankfully, she joined briefly. 

“I’d toss and turn as a kid too,” she admitted.

“How’d you go to sleep?” She was quiet a moment.

“Sing me a lullaby.” He tensed.

“My lady?”

“That’s how I got to sleep. A lullaby.”

“I promise you my voice…”

“Please?” He sighed. Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he paused and took a deep breath. He could feel her surprise as Orlesian filled the air. Free Marcher he was born, but he had spent so much of his life in Orlais, he knew this better than anything else. His voice was gruff but steady. Slowly, he felt her begin to relax. He repeated the short, simple song until her breathing had slowed and evened. He smiled as he pressed another kiss to her shoulder. Such a simple thing to allow her to sleep, even delivered from him. Or perhaps that was what it was, the person singing it. The smile still on his face, he curled himself around her, and followed her into sleep.


	50. Where was the catch?, no pairing

“You want me to do what?”

“Come on Hawke, it’s simple. All we have to do is dig up a chest,” wheedled Isabela, leaning forward. Sera Hawke rolled her eyes.

“I heard you the first time ‘Bela. And I have one question.” The pirate raised an eyebrow.

“Where was the catch? ‘Cause I knew one was coming. But I didn’t hear it. Which can only mean you haven’t told me everything. We have to sneak through the brothel, you’re making me bait, I have to wear some kind of costume, what is it?”

“Oooo,” purred Isabela. “Costumes? I never pegged Anders as the type…”

“Isabela.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “It’s in Darktown.”

“See, I’m starting to think you don’t understand what a catch is. It’s the part that makes people  _not_  want to help you. Considering I’m in Darktown half the time anyway, that is not the catch.”

“The Darktown sewers.” Isabela studied Sera, wariness in her eyes. Sera groaned.

“Come on ‘Bela, you know I hate the sewers. They fucking smell and the last time I went in there I got hit on by that really short guy with the weird eyes. I still can’t figure out if he was a skinny dwarf or just a really short human,” she whined. Isabela started to laugh.

“I had forgotten about that!” The laugh trailed off as Sera just stared at her.

“Please Hawke,” the pirate pleaded, throwing aside all pretenses. “I really think this is the relic this time.” Sera held out against the eyes for three beats before sighing.

“Fine. Fine ‘Bela. I’ll help you.” 

“You’re the best Hawke,” chirped Isabela as she hopped up and headed for the tavern door. She paused as she looked back.

“You might want to wear less nice clothes.” And she sauntered out. Sera barely stifled a groan but followed her friend out the door anyway. She would never let Isabela live this down if she was wrong about the relic again. But then, ‘Bela would expect nothing less.


	51. Excuse me? I'm alive too

The fire at camp crackled merrily, but Neria could hardly enjoy it. With increasing frequency. The elf could feel the tension between her shoulder blades grow. 

“Is there something you would like to say Wynne?” she finally asked, staring over towards the older mage.

“Ah she has been staring at you too?” asked Zevran. Neria bristled. Though Wynne had backed off since giving her last advice, Neria hadn’t forgotten. Wynne hesitated, the silence growing.

“Does it not bother you the way he looks at other… people?” The question had finally burst from her as if it had been brewing for much longer than it seemed.

“Zevran?” asked Neria, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. The way he… ogles. Aren’t you together?”

“Ah, are you speaking about that red head in the village we passed through at midday?” said Zevran wistfully, completely ignoring Wynne’s question. “With the lovely-”

“That is not necessary,” said Wynne sharply, cutting across him. “Maker knows you two are together more often than not. We all hear it.”

“I’m not dead,” replied Zevran, looking almost offended. “Did you not see her-”

“Be that as it may,” interrupted Wynne, a flash of temper raising her words slightly louder. “You may be alive but you are with Neria and…”

“Excuse me?” interrupted Neria, half-annoyed, half-incredulous. “I’m alive too. I saw her. She was gorgeous.”

“My dear Warden, you really  _must_  tell me these things,” purred Zevran, moving closer to Neria. Anything further he might have said was stopped by a single look, but his smile remained. There had been annoyance on her face, but behind it glinted humor for him before she had turned her attention back to Wynne.

“Let’s say for a moment Zevran and I are together like you think we are. Even then you would be wrong. Everyone in this world looks. You look. Alistair looks. Morrigan looks. To expect someone I’m with not to look is to expect a miracle. I don’t care if they looks. They’re with me.” She seemed to catch herself. “Or would be if I were in that kind of relationship.”

“Besides, looking creates opportunities for more…  _fun_ ,” said Zevran with a suggestive grin. Wynne huffed.

“My apologies,” she said stiffly as she stood and moved over to her tent. Neria rolled her eyes, setting down the rest of her bowl of stew. She had lost what remained of her appetite. Zevran shifted closer to her, his fingers brushing deliberately against her waist as he leaned towards her.

“You know, since you’re finished eating we always could…” started Zevran before his voice lowered and his lips brushed against the long shell of her ear as he continued his thought. A grin slowly spread across Neria’s face. She grabbed him as he began to move away, pulling him closer to whisper something back into his ear. His grin matched hers.

“I’ll be in my tent,” she said with a smirk as she turned her back to him, moving towards it. “Coming?”

“We most certainly will be,” he replied cheekily as he hurried after her.

“Do you have to say that stuff so I can hear it?” demanded Alistair, turning red even as they disappeared into her tent. Their laughter rang out.

“Sorry Alistair,” she called. The last syllable of his name ended on a gasp. Alistair flushed even deeper as he moved further away, leaving them to their fun.


	52. If you think I'm going to let you give up on us now, you've got another thing coming, Varric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Trespasser DLC spoilers

Varric hesitated as he saw Sylvi throw a piece of her makeup at her mirror. He considered leaving her be for the moment, but when she threw her arm against the small desk, scattering the rest of the colors and dyes, he knew there was more going on.

“Syl.” She glared over her shoulder, the ice of her temper slamming into him, but he could also see what had started it. The makeup around her right eye was sloppy, especially for how precisely she applied hers. 

“Syl…”

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, cutting off whatever he had meant to say. “Don’t you dare say it looks okay. It looks like I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” he said, taking a few cautious steps forward. “You always do.” She curled the fingers of her right hand just above the stump on her left arm.

“Get out.”

“Not happening.” The cold of her temper was rapidly turning hot, a sign that had always made him back down before. But he had been worried about her and how she had pulled away from everyone in the weeks since she had lost her arm. She wasn’t going to get her way this time.

“Oh? My apologies great Viscount. Did I make that sound like a request? It wasn’t. Get out.” Her voice dripped with anger and sarcasm as she turned her back to him.

“Syl, I’m not going anywhere.” She whirled, fist raised, anger burning in her eyes, but she didn’t throw it and he didn’t move. She seethed for four long humming moments before she lowered the fist.

“Abandoning your duty rather quickly aren’t you Varric? Leaving Kirkwall without their Viscount. You should go back. I bet there’s plenty of women who’d want to be married to the ruler of Kirkwall.”

He had to bite hard against the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything without thinking. But he knew he had won. She had given herself away. She studied him, as if waiting before scoffing and turning her back.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he asked, a smile quirking at his lips. “You’re looking for a fight, looking for a reason. I’m never going to give it to you. If you think I’m going to let you give up on us now, you’ve got another thing coming.” She had stilled and he moved forward. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “I’m right here Syl and that’s where I’m staying.” She fought it, he knew her well enough to know that, but her anger slipped away. When her shoulders started to shake, he reached for her and she turned willingly to him, pressing her face against his shoulder.

“I can’t do anything,” she whispered as she struggled back tears. “I can’t even do my makeup…”

“You’ll learn,” he said gently, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “You’ll learn to do everything again. I’ll help. So will everyone else.”

“I’m sure Bran will like that.”

“You come first Sylvi. You. I love you.” Her breath shuddered out.

“I love you too. Void take me, I love you too.” 

“Well I knew that,” he teased. “Who else knows where to poke the best?” She was laughing as she raised her head but there was regret in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” He leaned forward to press his lips against hers.

“Loving someone is scary,” he said after he had pulled away. A smile tugged at her lips.

“Is that so?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m going to have to explain to Bran that in the week since he last saw me, I got engaged.” She blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it again. He only smiled at her.

“You come first Syl,” he said, repeating his words from moments before. He saw tears well in her eyes before she blinked them away and smirked.

“A little cocky of you. I haven’t said yes yet.” His smile widened. She was back.

“You’re welcome to at any time.”

“I’ll consider it. If you actually ask me.” With a laugh, he pulled her back to him, dipping her down as he kissed her. 

“Sylvi Cadash, will you marry me?” he asked as he pulled away. She was still smirking but the look in her eyes was soft.

“Of course I will.”


	53. First time Hawke gets back, Varric/Hawke friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trespasser DLC spoilers

Varric sighed as he stared at his mug of ale. He sat in The Hanged Man as always and the noise around him was familiar as always, but it lacked some very distinctive sounds. Daisy’s giggle. Aveline’s chuckle. Fenris’ rumble. Anders’ snicker. Isabela’s full-bodied cackle. And… He glanced up towards the door of the bar. It was both so long and so recent to him that she would walk through the door, joining him and their friends for drinks and Wicked Grace. Being Viscount was more annoying than he had expected and he found himself missing his best friend quite often. 

When the tavern door opened, he glanced over out of habit and found himself staring. He didn’t quite believe what he saw, so similar to what he had just seen in his memories. The woman had a traveling hood up over her head, maybe… But her head turned straight for him, straight for their group’s corner and as her hand raised to lower the hood, he knew Hawke had come back. 

Varric quickly stood as she made her way over to him and the second she was close enough, pulled her into a hug. Her arms came around him as she greeted her old friend.

“It’s been awhile,” she said as they pulled apart. He couldn’t help but to laugh.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be away so long. Fenris wasn’t happy.” Varric snorted as they sat back down and he called for an ale for her.

“Fenris not happy? No. Scandal.” She laughed and his smile only widened. It always felt right to hear Hawke’s laugh in The Hanged Man.

“I missed you Varric.” His smile softened.

“I missed you too Hawke.” Her ale was delivered to her elbow and she lifted it towards him. He met it with his own, the tankards clinking together before they both drank.

“Now what’s this about Viscount?” asked Hawke with a grin as she set her tankard on the table. He immediately launched into a long winded story that had her laughing, always at the parts she was supposed to. They were both smiling as the night went on. It was good to be back.


	54. I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m really horny, and you’re really hot. Can we fuck? Like, now, Blackwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW! Explicit content

Blackwall’s eyes scanned the tavern before dropping back to his tankard. The Herald… He shook his head. That title made her squirm ever so slightly. He was trying to get it into his head to call her by her name or some other title. Lady Cadash? Still too proper for her. Lady Sig. That would work. Lady Sig had entered the tavern not too long after him but been pulled into a group of soldiers on the opposite side. Though she had locked eyes with him a few times, it seemed she hadn’t been able to extricate herself from the throng of people. He knew if she was truly annoyed, she’d leave so he left the situation as it was and rose, tossing coin onto the table to cover the ales he’d had. The sound of the tavern followed him through the quiet streets of Haven for awhile before it became distant. In the quiet, he heard hurried footsteps crunching in the snow behind him. Close now to the small cottage he had been given on his arrival, he turned briefly to see who could be in such a hurry at this time of night. He stopped short as he recognized the figure.

“Lady Sig?” he asked. She grinned as she closed the last few feet between them and he mentally reminded himself that title would most certainly work.

“Blackwall.”

“What can I do for you?” She sighed, her pale green eyes dropping for a split second before coming back up and locking onto him.

“Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m really horny and you’re really hot.” Her eyes scraped down his body. He stiffened, in more than one place, entirely shocked at what she was saying.

“Can we fuck?” she continued. A pause. “Like, now?”

“M-my lady,” he stammered, heat coursing down. He’d thought about it before. He shouldn’t have. But how could he have stopped himself? The scars on her face spoke of a warrior’s past, but the fingers that fletched her own arrows were graceful, tender. And then there was her straight-forward attitude. Like right now. She raised an eyebrow, the hair so fine and such a light blonde, he couldn’t even see it in the darkness.

“Not yet I’m not.” He swallowed. Hard. He felt a blush flaming against his cheeks, could only hope his beard covered it. Maker, she had turned him into a stammering virgin again.

“We shouldn’t…” She laughed now and the sound curled in his gut, sent more fire down, down.

“People do a lot of things they shouldn’t,” she said stepping forward and with a careful precision, reached up to push a single finger against the very center of his chest. “Are you one of those people?”

Blackwall couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to. And he really didn’t want to. He pulled her against him, bending down to kiss her hotly. She responded instantly, curling her hands in his coat and pulling him closer. Even as the kiss grew even hotter, she pulled away just enough to sink her teeth into his bottom lip. He flinched despite himself and he heard a low chuckle come from her right before she let go.

“Maker’s balls,” he managed, voice raspy. She would be the end of him if it continued like this. Every little thing she did sent his mind spinning, heat curling into his gut. 

“Bed. Now,” she hissed, marching towards his cottage. He quickly followed. But as the door closed behind them, his hesitance returned. Despite her discomfort to the title, she was still the Herald of Andraste, one of the leaders of the Inquisition. Despite his thoughts, he offered no resistance as she pulled him back down to her, her hands already busy with the lacing of his trousers. As they fell to his ankles, he grabbed her hands.

“My lady,” he managed, his voice hoarse, the protest sounding weak even to him. He released her hands and stood there, unsure what she would say. She simply shook her head at him, knowing as well as he did if she would turn to go, he’d pull her back. In a flash, she pushed her hands against his torso and he fell onto the bed. The next moment her mouth was around him, greedy and sucking. Every token protest left in him flew away and the only thing that escaped his mouth was a long groan. He twitched as she pulled away and heard that dark little chuckle again in response. He was quickly becoming far too fond of it. She tugged off his boots, then the trousers which allowed her a little closer access before she sank her mouth around him again. Even knowing what was coming, his hips bucked. Her tongue flicked and teased even as she kept the perfect pressure around him. He knew this woman would have him begging if she wanted to and he would do it eagerly.

But it seemed teasing was the only thing on her mind and she pulled away again. As his eyes flew to her, she simply smiled and reached for the buttons on her shirt. His disappointment flew away as he propped himself up on a elbow to see better. She shrugged off her shirt, letting it pile on the floor. Her bindings came next, deftly removed, only taking a few moments until her breasts were free.

He stared, couldn’t help himself. They were large for her build, even larger than he had imagined.

 _Idiot_ , he chided himself.  _She’s an archer. She binds them so they don’t get in the way._

But still he couldn’t look away. Smooth skin gave way to large dark pink areolas, the small pert nipples slightly above dead center already tightened. Her hands came up to brush against them, pushing her breasts together and as he tore his eyes away, he realized she was smirking.

“Like finally seeing them?” she asked and his eyes widened. 

“My lady…”

“I like the way you look at me. Even when you think I don’t notice.  _Especially_  when you think I don’t notice. So look.” One smooth gesture later and her trousers were gone and she stood before him bare. He swallowed. Once. Then twice. His eyes moved from her breasts, across the expanse of her scarred stomach, a hint of softness taking nothing away from the muscle that lay beneath the skin, down to where her curls started. They were a darker blonde than her hair, but just as fine. He had an image of himself, his nose buried in them as he tasted her. 

_Maker…_

“Blackwall.” It took him a moment to realize she had called his name. Jolting, he dragged his eyes back up to hers. Though he saw humor, there was a deepening desire too, darkening the color of her eyes.

“Your turn.” Realizing he still wore his tunic and overcoat, he quickly pulled them over his head, throwing them to the side, forgotten the moment they left his fingers. She hummed approvingly as her gaze swept across his chest and down. With an easy gesture, she hopped up onto the bed and straddled him. She sat much higher than he wanted, but she curled her fingers into his chest hair, tugging briefly before her hands wandered across his chest up to his shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath. Her hips rocked against his stomach, leaving a trail of slickness behind.

“No more,” she breathed. “I can’t wait.” Reaching back, she grasped him, guiding him towards her entrance. In a single movement, she sheathed him, back arching as they both cried out. She paused for a moment, her muscles tensing around him as she adjusted. Her mouth parted ever so slightly as she glanced up to meet his eyes.

“Thick,” she said approvingly and smirked as she felt him twitch inside her. Deliberately, she put her hands against his hips, leaning forward slightly, her arms pushing her breasts together. With a smirk, she began to move. He felt his jaw drop as he watched her move. Every curse, every oath he knew and then-some ran through his head, but not a single one passed his lips. All he could do was stare at the bounce of her tits, the curve of her hips, the way his cock disappeared inside her. He stared like a man parched of water for a day drank. She knew it. And she loved it.

But they both could only take so much of it and she knew that too, so it wasn’t too long until she was leaning back, speeding up as she rode him. She bowed back and he had to swallow again, her pale skin gleaming in the darkness. Gone were the hesitations. Later would be for questions like why him? Now was just her and he had to touch her.

Reaching up, he cupped her breasts, calloused thumbs rasping against her nipples. Her breath caught as her head fell back but her rhythm barely wavered. She reached up and guided one of his hands down to where their bodies came together and when his thumb rasped against that pert bead, she cried out.

“More,” she urged as he hesitated in doing it again. She moaned as he repeated the gesture though it caught as he kept his thumb pressed against there, her clit being rolled just through the movements of her own body.

“Oh fuck yes,” she hissed. “Don’t you fucking stop.” In a single fluid move he had perfected long before, he flipped them, never breaking their rhythm. She went to say something but before the words could get past her lips, his hips sped up, pushing her down into the mattress. A pleased cry was what ended up filling the room as flesh slapped sharply against flesh. Her cry fractured as his thumb rolled against her clit again and he knew they were both close.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned. Words floated in his mind, words a different man had used on different women. As he saw her tense, felt her tighten around him, he spoke a single one.

“Come.” She jolted at the word, the command behind it, but he also saw her eyes darken.

“I said come,” he growled, pressing against her clit. This time she did. Her body arched up towards his as a wordless cry flew from her. She clamped down around him so tightly, he swore and two thrusts later had buried himself inside her with a similar wordless cry. 

The only sounds in the room became their heavy breathing as they both came down from their highs. He slipped out of her, collapsing onto the bed beside her. She glanced towards him and he met her gaze. She smiled.

“Thank you.” He chuckled.

“I believe I should thank you my lady.”

“I believe we thanked each other,” she replied, her grin widening before she sat up, moving off the bed to redress. He simply watched her, unsure how to feel. She paused as she threw on her coat.

“So,” she asked as she straightened it. “Can I come to you next time?” 

“Yes.” The reply was instant and entirely sure. She grinned.

“Good. I’d’ve been disappointed if the best fuck I had in years was a one time thing.” And with that she was out the door and gone. Blackwall stared after her a long time. This was trouble and he knew it. But he’d be damned if he’d stop it now.


	55. Prompt: Something with Zevran

To anyone watching, it would appear as if he was meticulously sharpening his daggers. But Zevran had learned long before how to observe without seeming like he was. It had been a week since he had failed to assassinate the two Grey Wardens. The suspicious looks on the road had not yet abated, but it had been time enough for some to turn their backs on him as they ate dinner. He gave them their space, sharpening his daggers at the edge of the firelight by his own small tent. The pretty Chantry sister had apparently decided to spend the night by her tent rather than join the two Wardens at the fire. Though he knew their names, he kept reverting to descriptions, an easy way to distance yourself from marks. It was getting late. Watches would start soon. Sure enough, the second Warden stood.

“Isn’t it your night off watch?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hope you sleep well then Leha,” he said with a smile as he turned towards the edge of camp. She inclined her head before turning back to the fire.

Zevran’s heart leapt even as the whetstone stayed steady against the edge of the blade. She was by herself. Her back turned to him as well. Quick checks confirmed the Qunari was off where he normally stayed, the woods witch at her own fire. Even so quickly after his heart had begun to race, it slowed again as training began to take over. So quickly he could slit her throat. He might even stand a chance at fleeing before they could catch him. The hand holding the whetstone stilled and he covered the silence by testing the edge of his blade. There had been no need, he had them sharp enough a quarter of an hour ago, and a bead of blood welled on his thumb. Sucking at it, he stared at the back of her head. He should… The decision hung in the air and he had no idea how long he actually took making it. 

His dagger slid into the sheath, the only noise coming from the hilt hitting against the metal-capped opening. The second followed.

“Zevran.” He damn near jumped and smiled easily as she turned towards him.

“Here I am, Warden.” The light of the campfire flickered across her face, deepening shadows in some places, highlighting others and for a split second he was absolutely sure she knew what she had done leaving her back to him.

“The fire isn’t a privilege you have to earn, you know. You’re welcome to join us.” He blinked.

“Thank you.” 

She grinned as she stood, knowing as well as he did that she had flustered him.

“Perhaps I could thank you a littler more personally?” 

“I heard better lines from you when you were lying in a pool of your own blood. You’ll do better next time,” she called as she disappeared into her tent. He laughed before staring back down at his daggers. Not good. He knew what he had wanted heading into the attempted assassination. But he had just been handed a chance, and he was no longer sure she knew what he had been thinking, and hadn’t taken it. What did he want? Turning towards his own tent, he could only find one thing he knew for sure. He didn’t know. 


	56. And yet I still can't get my DVD player to work

“So if I can get the capacitor to handle the extra juice, it could have applications…” Dagna trailed off, noticing Sera’s eyes had glazed over. But it took only a few seconds of silence for them to refocus.

“Sorry Widdle,” she said sheepishly. Dagna only grinned.

“New invention that could be amplified with lightning magic.”

“And yet I still can’t program my DVD player,” sighed the blonde elf. Dagna giggled.

“You mean your DVR?”

“Same thing. Your stuff.” She grabbed hold of Dagna’s hand. “Come on, let’s go do some of my stuff.” 

“Throwing pies at the nobles?” 

“You always giggle when we do that. I like when you giggle Widdle.” Dagna’s grin was uncontrollably wide as the two shared a quick kiss and she followed Sera eagerly out the door.


	57. You're not going to lose me, Solas

It was quiet in Skyhold. The moon rose silently above the garden. Lavellan sat on a bench, staring up at it. Movement caught her attention and she turned her head to see a familiar figure emerging from the door leading to the hall. A sad smile tugged at her lips as she turned back towards the moon. 

“Vhenan.”

“Vhenan,” she replied. 

“You are troubled.” Her gaze dropped down to her lap.

“I am.”

Solas took a few steps closer to her.

“I am willing to listen.”

“Valorin. In the Exalted Plains. You disapproved of what I said to his sister. And I can understand not approving of telling a lie even to help, but I couldn’t help but feel like it was also because he was Dalish. I felt like you were disapproving of the clan.” He frowned slightly.

“You are correct in that. I disapproved of you having to prove who you were to them.” She smiled as she rose.

“Thank you Solas, but I am being called the Herald of Andraste, leading the Inquisition, started by the former Divine. I don’t blame them for that.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Entirely,” she admitted. “But I know your history with the Dalish. Or at least what you told me. And… I’m Dalish. You know that. I just… I feel like I’m going to lose you just for being who I am, who I was raised.” Solas tilted his head to the side ever so slightly but said nothing. Every second the silence continued sliced at her heart until she had to speak again.

“Does it bother you that much?” she whispered.

“Vhenan, you are…”

“Please don’t say different,” she begged. “Please don’t tell me I’m an exception again. I don’t take that as a compliment. It’s hurtful. The Dalish are my family, flaws and all. We try. We really try.”

“I know that.” His voice was quiet, the words sincere and the glimpse of hope lifted her heart.

“Then please. I’m not asking you to abandon how you feel about the Dalish, I’m not asking you to forget how you were treated. From what you’ve told me, I understand why you feel the way you do. So please, understand why I feel the way I do. Please. ‘You’re not going to lose me.’ That’s all I need to hear from you.” Something rippled across his face.

“I do understand why you feel as you do. I apologize if my dislike for the Dalish has made you believe I hold a dislike for part of you. It is entirely untrue.”

“Solas…” she whispered, searching, asking. His gaze was regretful, but steady and the silence spoke the answer. In silence, her heart broke. In silence, she turned away. And in silence, he let her go.


	58. Stay back, I don't want to hurt you, Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Trespasser Spoilers ahead

The crackling in the air and Bull’s violent curse was what had Varric turning. The sight of Sylvi suspended in the air by the Mark in her hand sent his heart, his stomach, everything he could think of into his throat. A scream of pain tore from her throat as she dropped back to the ground, a shockwave of energy following. He was running before he even realized it.

“Syl! Syl!!”

“No!” she screamed, voice hoarse as she struggled back to her feet. “Stay back. Stay back! I don’t want to hurt you.”

It hurt to come to a stop, to raise Bianca rather than keep going. As she turned to her back to him, staggered towards another opponent, an unwelcome thought had him fighting tears. 

She wasn’t going to come back from this fight… 

Every part of him begged to run after her, to hold her maybe one last time. But she was in enough pain already. He wouldn’t add to it. Couldn’t add to it. 

His face was hard as he laid down cover fire, all while she moved closer to the next Eluvian, further away from him. He wished his heart could be as hard.


	59. Are you trying to ruin men for me?, Bull

Arlane practically purred as Bull’s fingers tracked up and down her spine while she lay sprawled naked across her bed. He chuckled to himself. He never would have expected how much seeing her relaxed would help him relax or even feel content, but here they were. One of her eyes opened to glance at him.

“Is someone feeling full of themself?” He smirked as he settled back against the headboard of her bed. 

“I believe it was you feeling full of myself. Not even half an hour ago.”

“Smartass,” she commented, closing the eye again, but a smirk pulled at her lips.

“You don’t want to fall asleep,” he said as, after a few moments, he felt her relaxing even further under his touch. “Dinner’ll be up soon.”

“You arranged to have dinner brought up?” she asked, opening both eyes this time. He grinned.

“I doubted you’d want to get dressed again once I got you out of those clothes.” She laughed as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“So, you made a plan to not only get me out of a too long war session, get me into bed, fuck me senseless,  _and_  had it all timed so dinner would get here at the right time?”

“Fuck you senseless, fuck you relaxed, same thing really,” he replied with a shrug.

“It’s like you want to ruin men for me.” Though said teasingly, there was too much truth in her eyes for him to make a crack back. Instead, he met her gaze quietly. Her smile softened and she moved up to press a soft kiss against his lips. As she began to pull away, his hand slid tenderly against the back of her neck, keeping her in the soft, slow kiss for a moment longer. They were both smiling as they separated, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Her eyes glimmered for a split second before she leaned in, pressed one quick casually intimate kiss to the corner of his mouth, and scooched away, hopping off the bed.

“If dinner’s going to be here soon, robes would be appropriate. I know half the staff’s seen you naked, but…”

“Only half?” he asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. She could only laugh as she threw a robe at his face.


	60. A Nap, Solavellan

Solas followed Inquisitor Lavellan as she led him into the depths of Skyhold. He silently studied the passageways they moved through, most still full of dust and cobwebs. She had arrived in his study that afternoon with something for him she claimed and that he had to come with her to get it. She glanced back with a smile, her enthusiasm so apparent he couldn’t have kept a straight face if he had tried.

“Almost there,” she assured as he smiled at her. She finally led him through a door and he slowed to a stop, looking around. It was a library. There were still cobwebs over many of the shelves but she appeared to have swept the floor and dusted the desk further in.

“I think it’s from when the humans were still here,” she said. “But I’m not sure. I doubt I could recognize old Tevene from old Elven.”

“Amazing,” he said softly. “And they’ve been sitting here all this time.”

“It’s not quite cleaned up yet,” she said, pulling him further into the room. “But I was too excited to show you. I even made room for this.” She gestured to the side of the round part of the room where a bedroll had neatly been set up. He glanced at the it, raising an eyebrow. She flushed furiously.

“No! No. I only meant… Fenedhis,” she hissed, the blush spreading along her ears. “The tower can get noisy. If you were having trouble taking a nap, you could come down here.” She was staring at her feet and Solas couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Truly,” he said softly, tilting her chin back up with a brush of his fingers. “It is very thoughtful.” She smiled, the blush beginning to fade.

“Shall we try it out now?” he asked, lips twitching as he attempted to suppress a smirk. He enjoyed how she blushed, a spread of embarrassment or pleasure across her cheeks into her ears.

“You’re doing that on purpose!” she accused even as the blush spread again. He only laughed as he tugged her down to the bedroll with him. 

“Apologies vhenan. I can’t seem to help myself with you.” Her blush flamed at the sincere words, no words coming to mind to reply with as he tucked her against his chest. He didn’t mind, lost in thought as he stared at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, his words buzzing in her head. As his breathing began to deepen, she would never understand how he could fall asleep so easily, he murmured something into the quiet.

“A place of our own to wander the Fade. Ma melava helani.”

She didn’t recognize the Elven phrase, something he had surely picked up from his wanderings and studies, but the warmth behind it was more than enough to make her smile, curling closer to him as she followed him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase Solas speaks was taken from Fenxshiral’s Project Elvhen. Translation copied directly from their Ao3 post.
> 
> Ma melava halani
> 
> An elvish idiom essentially meaning, “You have spent your time to help me.” Archaic and intimate. Rarely spoken to those who are not very close friends, family, or lovers.


	61. Why the heck aren't we making out?, Alistair

It had been a long day of traveling. Dinner was subdued around the campfire and as Sten took first watch, Leliana, Wynne, and Zevran retreated to their tents leaving Alistair and his fellow Grey Warden sitting next to each other by themselves. Alistair couldn’t help but smile as he scooted slightly closer to her. They rarely had time to themselves and he was grateful just to be sitting next to her. He didn’t know how he had come to be so lucky to be able to call her his, but she had chosen him.

“Alistair?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hmm?” 

“Morrigan’s over at her fire, Sten’s on watch, and everyone else went to their tents, right?”

“Yes?” he said, the question more why she was asking than he didn’t know. She leaned over to rest her head against his shoulder.

“So it’s just you and me.” He grinned as he slid an arm around her waist.

“That it is,” he agreed happily. She tilted her head up until her lips brushed his ear.

“Then why the heck aren’t we making out?” she whispered.

“I… uh…” he stammered as he felt his face flush before he grinned. 

“I can fix that,” he assured her as he pulled her close to capture her lips with his.


	62. Don't make me say it, Zevran

Leha paced. Back and forth, back and forth, and still the knowledge didn’t change. Alistair hadn’t moved from where he stood. What Riordan had told them loomed in the room. Abruptly, she stopped pacing, drawing Alistair’s attention.

“What are we going to do?” he asked hollowly.

“Hope Riordan doesn’t fall before he reaches the Archdemon?” she suggested before scoffing at herself. “Nothing is ever easy. Why would killing an Archdemon be easy?”

“Easy?” repeated Alistair. “That was never going to be easy.”

“You know what I meant,” she groaned as she began to pace again. Silence fell again.

“It has to be me,” he started.

“No,” she said, immediately and dismissively.

“But…”

“No,” she repeated, stopping to glare at him. But he squared his shoulders.

“All of this has been you. Us getting this far, using the treaties. We got this far because of you. And then there’s…” He trailed off as her eyes fired before he pushed through. “There’s Zevran.”

“What about him?”

“Leha-”

“Don’t.”

“No,” he said, stepping forward. “Are you going to stand there and pretend it doesn’t mean anything? I’ve seen you two and I know what you have. Tell me. What does Zevran mean to you?”

“Don’t make me say it!” Alistair faltered and silence filled the room because she wasn’t telling him, she was begging him. The fire seemed to die out of her.

“Don’t,” she repeated, drained, tired, resigned. “I can’t. I can’t say it. Because it can’t be you.” She turned and walked out of the room. He watched her go, wishing he knew what to say to change her mind.


	63. Zevran, Is that my shirt?

Zevran moved through the halls of Arl Eamon’s estate. Though he had seen much more extravagant, he wasn’t quite comfortable here. Whether it was the lurking presence of Loghain in the same city, the inkling that Eamon was only using all of them, or the fact the servants were deferential to him, he couldn’t say. But on the other hand… He grinned. Leha having a room to herself was quite a gift and they were going to take full advantage of it. Still grinning, he paused at the door to her room.

“Dear Warden,” he called. 

“Door’s open Zev,” she called back before he had a chance to continue. Chuckling, he opened the door, closing and locking it behind him. He slowed to a stop as he took in the lovely dwarf Warden. She was out of her armor. To be more accurate, she was wearing something other than her armor. It wasn’t something he had seen before, and he took the moment to stare. Her back was to him and the pair of black trousers she wore framed her ass gorgeously, clinging to her hips, tight through the thighs, slightly looser from the knee down, though her calves filled out the space. His eyes lingered unashamedly as he appreciated how even a simple pair of trousers, when they weren’t something he was used to, could appeal so much. 

She turned towards him and the grin that had grown on his face only widened. The tan shirt she had tucked into those lovely black pants had a long v neck with laces running across the gap. She had let them loose, providing a beautiful view of her cleavage.

“Lovely Leha,” he purred. “If only you had the chance to wear simple clothing more often. You look…” He trailed off, tilting his head to the side. Now that he was looking at it straight on, the shirt looked familiar. 

“It’s not like you to be tongue-tied,” she teased. He barely even heard her. A second later, he blinked as it clicked.

“Is that _my_ shirt?” he asked reflexively. She froze for a split second, eyes widening slightly, but it was enough to give her away, even as she spoke nonchalantly. 

“I’m sure there are plenty of shirts that look like…”

“Yes,” he interrupted with a widening grin. “That one I lost in your tent a few weeks ago because you were rather in a hurry? I believe that’s the very shirt.” A blush began to peek through across her cheeks.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed, flustered. He simply raised an eyebrow.

“I was going to give it back,” she said defensively, abandoning her feigned ignorance. “I forgot. And then I needed something to wear today. You want it back, you can have it tonight.”

“How could I want it back when your chest looks so much lovelier in it than mine ever did?” he asked almost innocently, much too pleased about the fact she had kept and worn his shirt at least once.

“You do have a very pretty chest though,” she commented. His grin was wicked.

“I am delighted you think so cariño. I can show it to you if you like.”

“What an offer,” she smirked. “Tell you what. How about you show me your chest and I’ll show you what I look like riding you in your shirt?” Zevran tore his shirt over his head as she moved towards him. As their lips met and they stumbled back towards the bed, he could only be grateful he hadn’t been able to find his shirt that morning after previous.


	64. Get out and don't come back

“What are you saying?” he demanded. 

“I think I made it clear,” she replied, her voice cold. “You of all people, should know what I’m saying.”

“Bull _shit_!” He was furious. He had to be furious. Because she couldn’t be doing what she was doing. “I do know what you’re saying and it’s bullshit. Why?” 

Her eyes narrowed as she glared coldly at him, but the look fell away as green crackled through the room and she hissed in pain. The Anchor flared bright, cracks of light shining almost halfway up her forearm. She hunched over herself, pulling her arm close as she fought the pain, the magic. He stepped closer, but her head snapped up and she glared once again.

“It doesn’t matter why. It’s my choice to end it.” But he knew. He knew now and the knowledge tore around inside him like a feral animal.

“You can’t give up. I won’t let you.”

“Shut up!” He could see the pain now and it wasn’t left over from the Anchor flare. She was pushing him away. Because she thought she was going to die.

“ _Listen_ to me. Please kadan…”

“Katoh.” He staggered back as if she had struck him. She stood there. Arlane, his Arlane. With a shaking hand, she reached up to tear off her necklace, the dragon tooth she had worked so hard to make. He felt as if she had ripped out his heart.

“Get out Bull. And don’t come back.”

* * *

He woke with a start, his heart racing. The pain lingered and even as he looked down to make sure she was still in his arms, even as he felt her warmth beside him, he couldn’t stop it. He knew it was his own fear that had caused it. Fear of her death, of what it could do to him. It had driven him to fight harder, reach further, push longer to keep her safe. And still that mark ate at her. He shifted, sitting up while keeping her nestled against him. He stared ahead, trying to grab hold of his wild emotions.

A gentle hand caressed his cheek.

“Bull,” she said softly. He tilted his head towards her. Her eyes were too clear for her to have been asleep only moments before. Reflex had him trying to cover his pain even though he knew that she knew him too well to be fooled. Her thumb brushed against his cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly. He closed his eye. It hurt that she knew him so well. Was it any wonder he dreamed what he had? Was it such a stretch of the imagination that she would push him away to save him any extra pain if she did die? He opened his eye and looked to her. 

“You told me to leave.”

“Vhenan…” she whispered. There was such incredible sympathy in her eyes. Still his emotions roiled inside him. He couldn’t leave it at that.

“You thought you would die and that it would be better if…” He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. Shock and horror mingled with the sympathy in her eyes now. But an instinctive denial or reassurance didn’t come. They only sat, meeting the other’s gaze for a long moment. 

Her hand trembled as she pressed it against his chest, right above his heart, and eyes still on his, began to speak in Elven. The words lilted and swelled, her voice becoming thick as tears began to fill her eyes. She never dropped her gaze. As she finished and silence fell, he took a moment before responding.

“What does it mean?” he asked gruffly. The emotion had been clear, but the same emotion could be put behind a lot of words.

“I pledge to you that it will be your name I cry out in the night and your eyes I smile into in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite of my food and the first drink from my cup. You are my armor as I am yours. I will tell no strangers our grievances. This is my vow to you. This is a bond of equals,” she translated, the same unwavering love behind her voice. “It’s the vows we say in my clan.”

“Kadan…”

“I’m scared, Bull. You know that. I don’t know if I’m coming out the other side of this one. But I do know I’m not strong enough to fight my hand, the Qunari, _and_ my heart. I can’t do this without you. Without you here at my side now and outside this room. I can’t. Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe you would be better off…”

“Katoh!” She blinked, meeting his gaze with eyes shining with tears.

“I’m better off with you. My kadan.”

“Bull…” He smiled as everything finally came back into focus.

“I told you before, didn’t I? All that time ago. We’re coming out of this together.” She crawled into his lap to wrap her arms around his neck.

“ _Alive_ and together,” she corrected, pressing her lips against his chest. His smile only widened.

“Alive.”


	65. Why are you on my doorstep at 3 in the morning?, Bull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder: Arlane = Ahr-luh-nay

It was cloudy. Not even the moon peeked through the haze to let her know what time it was as she crept across the courtyard. Late. It had to be late. All she knew was she couldn’t stand the dark corners in the emptiness of her chambers. She knew where her feet were taking her even as she picked the lock into the tavern. Two ways, but no patrolling soldiers on this one. She relocked the door behind her, stepping carefully around creaky boards. The closer she came, the more she hesitated. Just because she was awake didn’t mean it was okay to wake him. Each step up the stairs slowed. She could turn around, pour some ale, lose herself in a tankard. But that was weakness. Wasn’t going to him the same thing? She hesitated at the top of the tavern stairs, eyes flicking over to the corner where she could normally find Cole. Tonight, it was empty. She wondered briefly if he slept before the thought drifted away and her eyes slid to the door up just another half flight of stairs. Chewing on her bottom lip, she took a step forward. It took more than a few minutes to climb the few stairs as she paused a long moment on each before continuing.

As Arlane reached the door, a rapid muffled sound of movement came through the door, quickly followed by a violent curse.

“You have a death wish kid?” Bull demanded. “Waking me up like that?”

“She didn’t want to wake you. Wasn’t going to even though her edges blur and it hurts. You can help.” The next moment, the door swung open. Cole smiled at her and spoke quietly.

“You haven’t put a name to it yet even though you know what it is. But that’s okay because named or not, he helps and that’s never a weakness.” With that, he vanished.

“Boss,” said Bull, blinking before making his way over to the door. The beginning of winter had hit Skyhold and Arlane wondered faintly if she was grateful or disappointed it had gotten cold enough for Bull to wear a ragged pair of pants to bed. But then wasn’t sex the same as the ale three floors below? Just something to lose yourself in? He cocked his head slightly to the side like he could almost see the thoughts clashing against each other in her head as he stopped at the door frame.

“Why are you at my doorstep?” he asked genuinely, just as the guards called faintly for all clear at the beginning of the hour. “At 3 in the morning?” 

Her lips trembled, and it seemed she couldn’t say anything. Before she could bolt, he stepped back, inviting her into his room. Still, she hesitated.

“Arlane,” he said softly. “Come in.” Her eyes squeezed shut before she stepped over the threshold and into his room. 

She stopped halfway between the door and his bed. He closed the door behind her and as she heard him turn towards her, she took a deep breath.

“I…” His footsteps paused for a moment before continuing towards her until she could see him at the peripherals of her vision.

“I…” she repeated. He moved closer.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked almost casually, but his gaze was fixed on her. “Or don’t want to?” She shuddered. They both knew she had given an answer. Without another word, he simply walked the rest of the way over to his bed and sat on the floor, leaning back against the side of the mattress. A moment passed in silence. She shifted her weight before looking directly at him. He was looking back, a simple invitation in his eye. 

Arlane took a deep breath in and let it shudder out before she moved again, slowly following his path towards the bed until she sat, just to his left. He settled himself, stretching out his legs and crossing them at his ankles. Light began to filter into the room. The clouds must have cleared. She wondered how long it had taken her to climb from the tavern to Bull’s room, but like her other wonderings that night, it quickly slid away. She glanced over at him and for a moment, her breath caught. In the faint moonlight, his scars seemed to gleam against his skin, much more apparent than normal. There were so many of them. She was reaching for his hand before she even realized and hesitated, hand hovering between them. Before she could pull away, he lifted his hand, turning his palm up and offering it to her. There was only a brief pause before her hand slid into his, but instead of curling around his fingers, she flipped his hand back over, studying the scars she had always known were there, but had rarely focused on. 

She ached to see all the little hurts he had taken over the years as images real and not flew through her mind. Her breath caught again and in defense, she let his hand rest against her knee and trailed her fingers across a scar that ran between two knuckles. Then a small puckered one halfway up his ring finger. And another. And another. Until all that was in her mind was following and tracing the scars across his hand. The thoroughness and intensity with which she set to her task made it seem like she had been given it by her gods themselves, but how soft and gentle her touch was spoke to more. For the most part, Bull just looked straight ahead but every now and then, his gaze flicked to her. He didn’t have to be Ben-Hassrath to see how raw she felt in this moment. From what she was struggling with to how even her movements seemed to be careful, trying to keep herself from hurting anymore. It bothered him, lodged an unpleasant feeling in his gut. But he also knew offering something she wasn’t ready to take wouldn’t help, so silence reigned. 

It was strange how everything narrowed to the two of them, her fingers brushing, tracing along the silver white scars. And yet, it wasn’t strange at all. It seemed only right, only natural, for something so quiet and so close. 

She was on her third time through the scars when the silence broke.

“I’m really tired of seeing people I care about die when I close my eyes,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, so many emotions trying to burst through the words. He turned his hand over, enveloping hers inside his as he tugged her over. Slowly, she followed his urging, never forcing, until she sat sideways across his lap. She expected his arms to come around her, but he didn’t move, still only holding her hand in his. It was almost as if he was waiting for something. 

When she turned her head to meet his gaze, she realized he had been waiting for her. He said nothing, instead lowering his forehead to hers. Her throat closed at the simple gesture. Her breath shuddered out before catching once, twice. Sliding her hand out of his grasp, she wrapped her arms around his neck, fighting the break. Now his arms came around her, warm and tight, as if she had finally given permission. And she had, she realized. All she had to do was reach for him and he was going to be there.

“It’s alright, ‘Lane,” he said softly. Burying her face into his neck, she let go for a little while, knowing he would be there to hold her together.


	66. We can never start again, Solas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Spoilers for Trespasser DLC

“You don’t give up, vhenan.”

“The fact I saw you, let alone caught you tells me you haven’t either,” she replied. For weeks, as she dreamed in the Fade, she had caught glimpses of the Dread Wolf out of the corner of her eye, barely even there and gone when she looked closer. Tonight, for some reason, it was different. He had still been there when she turned her head, and though he had originally fled, his heart hadn’t been in it. Now they stood, face to face but miles apart. He cracked first.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, pain flitting across his features.

“Stop this. The answer to saving the Dalish is not to destroy other races, the entire world.” 

“I caused this.”

“And tearing down the Veil is going to cause no problems at all? You will cause another problem just as big.”

“I have to try. You could have been so much more, vhenan.” He faltered as hurt flickered over her face.

“I exist because of the world I live in. If you had never torn down the Veil, you wouldn’t have known me.”

“I would have known your essence, your soul. That much comes back, you can see it in different people, in different spirits.”

“You wouldn’t have known _me_ , vhenan,” she repeated softly. He looked away from her quiet hurt, her utter confidence. 

“I wish things were different. I have to fix what I’ve done.”

“Once a thing is done, we can’t go back. We shouldn’t. We can never start again.” As his eyes lifted to hers, he looked sad.

“I can. I will.”

She opened her eyes in her own bed and closing them again, the tears fell.

* * *

The world was burning. The Veil hadn’t even come down yet and there had been so much death. Her heart was numb as she dragged herself forward. He turned to greet her, regret in his eyes, but the faintest smile on his lips.

“Vhenan.” She whimpered as her heart, already so burdened, lurched.

“Is it too late?” she asked.

“No.” She made herself straighten and empathetic pain flickered across his face at the effort it took her. 

Then, their eyes met. 

After everything, after all, it was the two of them. Tears swam in her eyes, caused by so many different things, he couldn’t pick them all out. They stood, drowning in memories until he simply reached up and pulled the necklace she had made him so long ago from under his armor. She moved towards him, staggering across the short distance left between them. Raising her prosthetic arm, she carefully pressed the palm against the necklace. In silence, her first tear spilled over. He reached up and brushed it away, sighing in relief as her blade slid into the gap of his armor and into his chest.

“We can never start again,” she whispered as tears rained down her cheeks.

“I know.” His thumb brushed at her tears and he smiled as his vision narrowed to her. Only her. “Ma vhenan.”


End file.
